Wing Nuts
by Thing With No Talent
Summary: G1. Formerly 28 Aerialbots, until the crazy jets took over the story. We're flying without a destination now. Strap in and enjoy the ride. Barf bags are under the seat.
1. in which Air Raid gets concussed

1. In which Air Raid gets concussed

"Alright, Ramjet, you asked for it. You want a piece of me?"

Maybe colliding deliberately with a Decepticon jet known for being able to knock anything else out of the sky wasn't the smartest idea. But Air Raid wasn't known for his smart ideas, especially when he was ticked off.

Ramjet didn't see it coming either. Maybe he assumed he was dealing with a sane being who had some sense of self-preservation. In any event, he made no attempt to maneuver away from the kamikaze jet, and was actually laughing at his threat when Air Raid ran headlong into his flank.

It was slightly more comfortable than being struck by his reinforced nosecone (Air Raid knew that from personal experience), but the crash still jarred every wire in his body loose for a second and almost laid him unconscious at twelve thousand feet, a very bad thing to be. Surprisingly, he found himself still alive and aware a few seconds later, falling away from a very dented-looking Ramjet, who was trailing smoke and curses down at a steep angle to the ground.

Air Raid followed him down for a bit, simply because it looked like fun. The mountains rushing up to meet him were interesting too. And Ramjet's cursing was funny. He sounded just like Ironhide did that day when Slingshot --

Abruptly he found himself giggling. Once he started, he couldn't seem to stop, not that it worried him awfully much. Everything was too damn funny.

"Air Raid, you're about to crash! Please tell me you can still fly!"

Hmm, he thought, that's a good question. He pulled up a little and found the wind obligingly carrying him, since his wings were free of tears. Silverbolt was still squawking at him though, which was boring, so he switched to another radio frequency. Music started pouring in.

"-- American Pie, drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry --"

He had just begun to hum along to the chorus when Silverbolt's voice blared through again. "AIR RAID, WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU GOING?!"

"Hey, those aren't the words," he protested. They didn't even rhyme. Naturally, the giggle fit returned.

"I guess he hit Ramjet a little too hard," Skydive commented.

Silverbolt's sigh carried loudly over the radio. "I don't believe this. Air Raid, you've got a Decepticon right on your tail!"

It was true, he did. Up till now he'd just been ignoring him, but now he decided to turn and say hi. Thundercracker, caught off-guard by this sudden and blatantly senseless maneuver, swerved madly to the side as Air Raid narrowly avoided his second collision in five minutes.

"Lunatic Autobot!" the Seeker raved. "You'll kill us both!"

Air Raid didn't like his tone, so he sent off a couple of missiles at Thundercracker's backside. The Seeker squawked again as he accelerated, weaving wildly in an attempt to dodge them.

"Dancing Decepticons!" Air Raid giggled maniacally.

"Well, at least he can still fight," Skydive pointed out. "Sort of."

"I don't see him acting any different," was Slingshot's opinion. "Except that damn giggling. Air Raid, shut up!"

"... This'll be the day that I die (giggle), this'll be the day that I die..."

"Probably," muttered Silverbolt darkly. "Alright, guys, let's finish up here so we can get Air Raid home and get his wiring fixed. The next time any of you tries to maneuver into a crash with Ramjet, I'll shoot you out of the sky myself!"

- - - - -

Note: The lyrics are of course from "American Pie" by Don McLean, and I of course did not write them. This isn't a songfic and I don't intend to include lyrics in most stories. Please don't jump on me for copyright infringement, I haven't made anything except personal satisfaction out of posting this bit of nonsense.


	2. in which Silverbolt tries to work

2. In which Silverbolt tries to work

(Warnings for implied "slash", featuring genderless robots, and slight coarse language. Nothing graphic.)

Naturally, Slingshot was the first to disturb him. Silverbolt had barely begun to compile some of the reports that had accumulated while he was away, when the Harrier walked in without so much as a courtesy knock on the (foolishly) open door.

Naturally, this being Slingshot, the first words out of his mouth weren't, "Nice to have you back" or, "We missed ya, Bolt!" Instead, he promptly began bitching about his brothers and how much of a pain they'd been during the three whole days of Silverbolt's absence. The Aerialbot leader didn't even get a chance to open his mouth during the first two minutes or so of the tirade. Eventually he decided to stop trying and just let the smaller jet rant, while trying to get back to his work.

As soon as he realized he was being ignored, Slingshot fell silent and just glared at Silverbolt. After a moment he mumbled offhandedly, "Fireflight missed you. Skydive, too. Wouldn't shut up about it all yesterday."

Something inside him gave a little turn, but Silverbolt stuck doggedly to his work. "That's nice."

Slingshot stood in silence for perhaps another two minutes, then turned and stalked out in a huff. Silverbolt broke off from his reports long enough to close the door behind him.

_Maybe now I can work in peace and get this over with_. He doubted it. One of the side-effects of the Combiner process was a strong co-dependency among members. In the case of the Aerialbots, fliers for whom group coordination was a basic survival instinct, their natural sociability magnified that tenfold. To sum up: they were clingy little buggers who couldn't stand being away from one of their own for even a few damn days.

Sure enough, barely fifteen minutes later came a knock on the door. Silverbolt paused briefly, then ignored it. It persisted. He ignored it. It persisted, each knock louder and more elaborate than the one before it. By the eleventh knock, it sounded positively sarcastic.

He got up in disgust and opened the door to find Air Raid and Fireflight shoulder-to-shoulder, grinning innocently at him.

"What?"

"Welcome back," said Fireflight cheerfully as if Silverbolt weren't doing his best to scowl at them both. It was hard when they both looked so pleased to see him. "Slingshot said you were really busy, so we thought maybe we could help."

"Or," Air Raid added eagerly, "you could just ditch all that boring stuff and come back to the common room with us."

The look he gave his leader combined puppy-dog sweetness with horribly naughty suggestiveness, leaving Silverbolt to wonder how his face managed all that at once. Fireflight just radiated innocence, probably without being aware he was radiating anything at all. Between the two of them, Silverbolt's resolve began to waver.

"I have work to do," he said perhaps more firmly than he'd intended. "If you pests would leave me alone for more than a few seconds, I could get it done that much sooner. So if you want me back anytime tonight, scram!"

They recoiled, looking startled at first; then Fireflight's expression turned downcast while Air Raid's became a glare. "Come on, let's go," he growled as he took his brother's arm and led him back down the hallway.

"Thank Primus," Silverbolt muttered, returning to the reports. But now of course his thoughts were scattered, and just as he was starting to collect them, someone else knocked. Throwing down the datafile, he hollered, _"What?"_

"Just Skydive, sir. May I come in?"

Relieved and feeling a little foolish, Silverbolt got up to let his air strategist in. "Sorry about that. I was trying to get some work done, but apparently that's a crime around here."

Skydive nodded. "That's alright, I understand. Need some help?"

"Thank you, but no. If you really want to help, you could try to keep your brothers at bay for a while. They're insatiable." Silverbolt shook his head. "It's nice to have at least one teammate with a sense of responsibility."

Skydive smiled. "Yeah, but that's part of being the leader, huh? Trying to be responsible while still finding time to spend with your team?"

"I, uh... yeah." Damn, leave it to Skydive to remind him of his priorities. Which one was supposedly to be more important, again?

He looked down at the datafile, swerving with doubt yet again. Then he felt a hand ghost lightly over his wing and down his arm. It settled lightly on top of his own, squeezing gently.

"They need you," Skydive said into his audio. "We need you."

_Primus curse all Aerialbots._

"Oh, hell with it." Silverbolt picked up the file and tossed it aside, for no reason other than the satisfaction it would give him upon hitting the floor. Then he turned to Skydive. "Let's get back to the common room before they overload themselves into exhaustion without us."

- - - - -

See, nothing graphic. I've got much worse planned for later chapters.

**Note**: For the context of these stories, the Aerialbots were not created by Optimus Prime. I know that's what happened in the G1 cartoon, but like many events in that delightful 80's romp, it's pretty much implausible. Newly created mechs must need time to learn and develop as people, same as us, before they can be thrust into a war situation. The Aerialbots here are young and inexperienced, but they are fully grown and trained warriors who were sent to Earth as reinforcements from Cybertron, along with the Protectobots and others. (Their combined mode, however, _was_ created by the Earth Autobots to counter Megatron's Combiners.)

If that's a bit much to wrap your head around, don't worry about it. It's not really very important to the stories, I just thought I'd point it out.

I love reviews, people, so keep 'em coming! Questions and requests are welcome.


	3. in which Powerglide is a player

3. In which Powerglide is a player

(Warnings: More serious chapter here. No violence, but adult themes and dubious consent abound. An Aerialbot without the support of his teammates is a vulnerable being, easily manipulated by others. One Aerialbot in particular...)

"Kinda remote out here," Fireflight observed.

Powerglide hoped so. Last thing he needed was Warpath and the others getting on his case about "fraternizing" with an Aerialbot. It'd ruin his reputation.

Not that he'd tell the kid that. Instead he said, "Well, we don't wanna be interrupted by Decepti-clowns, right? They never patrol out here. It's safe, trust me."

The Aerialbot seemed uneasy. "I still don't know about this. Silverbolt wouldn't like it, that's for sure. And Slingsh--"

"Enough about them," Powerglide snapped. Seeing Fireflight flinch, he went on more soothingly, "They don't need to know. They shut you out anyway, right?"

"Well... kind of. They're still upset at me for causing that blackout, so no one's flying with except when we're on a miss--"

"So they don't appreciate you, that it? Make one mistake and it's boom, so long friends." Powerglide's voice exuded sympathetic outrage. He'd always been proud of his acting, and now he was in top form.

"W-- Well no, that's not it. I know they'll get over it. I mean, we're a team," he said, sounding unconvinced. "I think..."

Shaking his head, the A-10 laid a comforting hand on the F-4's shoulder. "You don't need 'em, kid. You got the Ace of the Air standing right here. I know talent when I see it, and you... you're somethin' special." Special, all right; he'd never had such an easy catch. "What say we forget about 'the team' for a little while, huh?"

A moment more's hesitation; then Fireflight bowed his head and leaned into the Minibot's arms. "Guess they won't miss me for awhile anyway," he murmured.

"Now yer talkin'." Powerglide ran cunning hands over the younger jet's wings and back, finding places that made him twitch and shiver. Before long, needy little sounds were coming from Fireflight's vocalizer that he didn't even seem to be aware of. He relaxed, the last resistance slipping away.

"Hey, kid, mind reciprocatin' a little here? You got me doin' all the work."

"Hmm...? Oh, um, right." Awkward hands rose and tried to imitate Powerglide's actions, needing correction frequently as he wasn't used to the A-10's build.

Powerglide suppressed a sigh of exasperation. It was going to take some work to get a real good time out of this one; maybe his brothers would've been a quicker studies. Still, he was a cute piece of tail fin... and best of all, he could be talked into _anything_. If there was one thing Powerglide was good at, it was talking. That, and making the best of his opportunities.

- - - - -

Apologies to Powerglide-lovers. I'm not trying to villainize him, but he does seem like a player to me, and if you've ever watched _The Girl Who Loved Powerglide_, you might notice he doesn't always treat his "partners" very well. I've been wanting to get this scene out of my head for weeks now. It remains to be seen if I decide to go any further with it.

**Elariel**: I love your responses. It's nice to have suggestions... did you have any particular characters/pairings/scenes in mind for the ones you requested? I'd have a hard time deciding, myself. (And I'm glad I made you laugh.)

**blood shifter**: Yes... of course, they're not siblings in the same way as humans, and neither are Sunny and Sides. Still, some of the same rules definitely apply. Others are noticeably different... I don't think human siblings generally bond by groping each other into exhaustion. :P

**Crimson Starlight**: Glad you're enjoying it.

Everyone else, keep your eye on this story and let me know whatever you like/don't like about it. As always, reviews are welcomed.


	4. in which Slingshot is a nice guy

4. In which Slingshot is a nice guy

"Aw slag, he's hit! Air Raid's going down!"

"I've got Starscream on my tail -- can't disengage. Somebody cover him!"

"I got 'im." Slingshot left off chasing Skywarp (who was pretty much out of the fight anyway) and dove after his wingmate. All that could be seen of Air Raid was a lot of smoke, and by the smell of it, he was burning fuel bad. That revenge hit from Ramjet had probably severed his main fuel line.

Said Seeker went limping off, himself trailing smoke from a badly damaged nosecone. _Hope you crash and burn_, Slingshot thought after him.

Dirge and Thrust moved to harass him, but were chased off by the remaining Aerialbots, while Silverbolt kept Starscream occupied high above them. The two air commanders had a lot of animosity toward each other. Starscream wouldn't worry about the smaller jets while the Concorde was still in the air.

_Thanks, guys_, the Harrier thought as he circled the trail of smoke, looking for the crash site. Air Raid must have hit by now. _There he is!_ A path had been cleared forcibly down a steep hillside, leveling trees in the way, and ending in a smoking pit full of mangled metal. It didn't look good from up here.

Slingshot swooped in and transformed, almost landing right on top of Air Raid in his rush to get to his teammate. The black jet was conscious -- barely -- and had managed to partly transform, enough to grab his severed fuel line in both hands and keep it from spraying everywhere. His legs and lower body were still tangled together in an indistinguishable mess, and a nasty gash had been ripped in the side of his torso.

Despite that, the first thing he groaned to Slingshot was, "I hate trees. Stupid branch lodged in my elbow."

"Raider, you're a mess. I think you've got bigger problems than a few branches." Slingshot knelt next to him and tried to move his hands out of the way to see how bad it was. "Man, you really did piss him off. How's your power level?"

"Lousy. Are we winning?"

"Of course! Deceptijets are no match for us. Hold still." He'd found what he was looking for -- Air Raid's power transfer cables, intact despite the devastation around them. "You'll be kicking their rudders in no time," he assured his brother as he carefully withdrew the cables and started attaching them to himself.

Air Raid tried to bat him away. "Hey, get off! I'm fine. Go thrash Thundercracker or something --"

"Don't be a stubborn aft, Raid. Show a little gratitude -- I didn't have to come save your sorry tail." He felt the transfer start immediately, Air Raid's starved systems automatically leeching energy from his own. "Besides, Silverbolt'll kill me if I leave you behind and you go into stasis or something. Which you would, just to get me in trouble."

"Damn right," Air Raid muttered as his power levels started to rise, systems humming a little more strongly. He'd never admit it to his egotistical brother, but he _was_ grateful to have a teammate kneeling next to him, looking out for him. Just like Slingshot would never admit that he wasn't doing it for the gratitude, or for any selfish reason.

When the other person is practically an extension of yourself, it feels just as good to give as to receive. That's as selfish as it gets.

- - - - -

Note: I don't write a lot of fight or mission scenes, for two reasons. One, that's mostly all they were depicted doing in the cartoon and the comics, so I prefer to write what they do in their off hours, their social lives and so on. The other reason is that I know very little about aerial combat, or combat in general, so when I do try to write fight scenes it usually comes out for crap. Still, I have to include something like that once in a while amidst all the "socializing" -- fangirl or not, I try to be balanced in my writing.

Now for replies, because reviewers love those.

**Veg1ma**: That's actually something I have in mind for another chapter.

**Elariel**: Of course, reviewing is a two-way street isn't it? Thanks for being supportive, I was very unsure of that chapter. As for your requests, I'm probably going to write a bonus chapter for you next, because I feel like unleashing the smuthounds. And your ideas were simply delicious. :)

**Devil Seifer**: Yes, he is one of the good guys, but that doesn't mean he's perfect. A lot of the Autobots have major flaws -- Sunstreaker is sociopathic, Ironhide is too heavy-handed sometimes, Smokescreen is a gambler, and Red Alert doesn't trust his teammates. Powerglide has more than a few flaws, including his ego and his mouth, which cause him to disregard the feelings of others. He isn't going to hurt Fireflight, at least not on purpose, but he doesn't see anything wrong with manipulating him. Unfortunately that can sometimes end up causing damage.

**Crimson Starlight**: Yeah, that's what I'd pretty much figured too. The fact that he had at least two love interests in the series (Astoria and Moonracer) also helped strengthen that impression. Thanks.


	5. in which an orgy happens

5. In which an orgy happens (Follow-up to Chapter 2)

(Yes, this is a smutty chapter. Featuring the entire gestalt team. You have been warned.)

Slingshot was waiting outside the common room when his leader returned with Skydive.

"Finally talked him into it, huh?" he asked his brother slyly. Skydive pretended to have no idea what he was talking about, so Silverbolt answered for him.

"Yes, you shameless degenerates have led me astray once again. I hope you're proud of yourselves. I doubt Prime would be happy to hear that I neglected important duties so I could glomp a bunch of needy jets."

"Prime isn't part of a Combiner team," Skydive pointed out.

Silverbolt sighed in defeat. "Lucky for him, but true. Alright, in we go."

As soon as Silverbolt stepped through the door, Air Raid let out a triumphant whoop and tackled him, almost knocking him back out into the hall. Fireflight followed, trying to hug Silverbolt and pull his exuberant brother off of him at the same time. "We missed you," he explained unnecessarily.

The Concorde couldn't help but grin. "Okay, so I missed you guys too," he said as he tried to wrap his arms around both of the smaller jets. "Solo trips are really boring."

"Told you he'd be back, didn't I?" Slingshot was trying to squeeze in. "Hey! How 'bout a hug for the Harrier down here?"

Skydive smirked and flung his arms around his brother from behind. "Feeling a little lonely, Sling?"

"Hug the Harrier!" Air Raid and Fireflight chorused as they both let go of Silverbolt to tackle their teammate, knocking Slingshot to the floor amid furious protests.

Shaking his head, Silverbolt dived into the melee. "Alright, guys, knock it off. If he wants a hug, by Primus I'll give him one!" He pushed the others aside, scooped Slingshot up in a bride-carrying motion and headed for the recharge berth with him. Dignity fled and gone, the Harrier resumed squawking.

"Hey, no fair! Just 'cause you're the biggest plane in the room and I'm the smallest, that doesn't mean you can -- Mffph!" Silverbolt had shut him up with the most effective means imaginable. Slingshot's optics widened, then swiftly glazed over as the relentless kiss continued. The other three Aerialbots whooped and cheered.

"Hot damn! I'm next!" In classic Air Raid style, the F-15 leaped on them both without waiting for an invitation, sending all three sprawling in a heap across Silverbolt's bunk. Fireflight and Skydive looked at each other, shrugged, and ran to join in.

They all wanted to touch their teammate, to claim him as their own again, to affirm to all their senses that he was back where he belonged among them. At first they wrestled over who got to touch what and who would be hugged next. The bunk was built to accomodate Silverbolt alone, and more than once an Aerialbot was shoved onto the floor during the scuffle.

Then, like the flick of a switch, the Gestalt mind kicked in.

Movements became slower, gentler; bodies went from pushing and shoving to just lightly brushing, wingtip against wingtip, shoulder against shoulder. The group settled down, no longer fighting for space, simply sharing it. Four pairs of hands wandered over Silverbolt's body and each other's, the boundaries between them becoming nonexistant -- every other Aerialbot's wing or leg or cheek was as familiar as one's own, and personal space had become irrelevent. Words were irrelevent too, and were quickly abandoned. Even Slingshot's bitching had trailed off into whimpers.

Silverbolt retained a thin thread of individual consciousness as his teammates writhed on top of him, every sensor in his body responding to the multiple touches. His own hands retaliated shamelessly, savoring the angles and planes of each Aerialbot's body, from Skydive's smooth helm to Fireflight's uniquely angled wings. All individuals, and yet they were a part of him, and he a part of them. Only their bond allowed for this unique form of interfacing, where five sets of hands and five sensor networks joined perfectly to create a processor-blowing experience.

His last thought before his own processor was completely overwhelmed by stimulation and the overload hit him with the merciless glory of a supernova, was that Prime didn't know what he was missing.

- - - - -

Wow, descriptive. Naturally I'd go into more detail on the smut chapter than I've done on anything else so far. Oh wait, no, that's typical.

Time for a fun poll now! Did you: Enjoy? Enjoy wayyy too much? Click and save? Flee the site in terror? Vomit into a trash can? All of the above (WTF)? Review and tell me. It's the first thing I've posted here that's remotely smutty, so this ought to be interesting.

**Elariel**: Hope you enjoy the further "exploration" of their team dynamic. Beats the heck out of writing an essay on Combiners, anyway.

**Veg1ma**: Keep reading, it gets better. And wouldn't you know it, I'm a Starscream as well? Seriously, I could root for either one of them in a fight. Obnoxiously sarcastic Seekers are w1n.


	6. in which Devastator is an artist

6. In which Devastator is an artist

Ratchet _hated_ working on Aerialbots.

Of course, he would have said the same about any mech that had the audacity to stroll (or limp, be carted in pieces etc.) into his medbay injured. After all, each time they managed not to come through another day of war miraculously unscathed was a lot of work and unspoken worry for him. Not to mention the vocalizer shorts he suffered trying to talk (or rather yell, scream, threaten, and beseech Primus himself to intervene) some sense into the infuriating creatures.

But though they might not compare to Wheeljack on a bad day or the Twins on what they considered a good one, the Aerialbots were still a particular pain. For one thing, Ratchet had had very little experience working on jets, so for him it was a crash course (literally) in their anatomical peculiarities. Very often, he was finding out important ways in which they differed from car-bots while in the thick of trying to save their recklessly disregarded lives. It made for a... stressful job.

And then there was that damn Gestalt mind. Or at least, he figured that was their excuse for not being able to leave one of their own, even in his capable hands. Of course it wasn't much of an excuse in his opinion. The Protectobots weren't nearly so clingy, and he doubted Megatron had such a problem with his gestalts.

Regardless of the reason, there was a fundamental truth regarding Aerialbots -- if you had one injured, there would be at least three in your medbay.

And if there were _three_ injured...

"**AIR RAID!** If I turn around and see you messing with that again, I'll send you down to Ironhide for repairs!" Ratchet waved the nearest available tool in a threatening manner -- which turned out to be a cleaning brush. Not the effect he'd been hoping for.

"But it keeps making this popping sound --"

"That's because it's NOT SUPPOSED TO MOVE until I lubricate it, for Primus' sake! I'll get to you in a minute, unless you keep disregarding my instructions, in which case I'll come over there RIGHT NOW and shut off all your servos."

"Good idea," smirked Slingshot, who was sitting (quite uninjured) on the foot of Air Raid's repair table.

Ratchet shot him a look. "I thought I told you to scram."

"Yeah, about twice."

"So WHY are you still here?"

"Yeah, go bother the sports cars or something." Air Raid attempted to shove him off the table, wincing as his injured arm popped again. Ratchet shook his head and went back to working on Silverbolt.

"And leave you alone with the two most boring Aerialbots and Ol' Hatchet for company?" Slingshot snorted. "I wouldn't dream of being _that_ cruel."

"Wow," commented Fireflight, hovering over Skydive at a nearby table. "I've never seen wings that shape before. Looks sort of like origami."

Air Raid grinned. "Who knew Devastator was an aspiring artist?"

"I wish he wouldn't aspire to practice on _me_," Skydive groaned. "Ouch."

"Hey guys, speaking of art -- you remember that model airplane we painted to look like Starscream and flew around the briefing room?"

"Oh yeah, Prowl loved that one. Of course, naturally he assumed _I_ did it."

"Well, you were the inspiration..."

Frustrated, Ratchet was about to whirl on them again, but Silverbolt reached up and laid an almost pleading hand on the medic's arm. "They aren't doing any harm, Ratchet. It's not easy for them when the rest of the team is injured, and I daresay they take our minds off it. Can you just leave them be?"

Ratchet opened his mouth, considered, and closed it in a frown. He _really_ preferred having a nice quiet repair bay to work in... but apparently the Aerialbots didn't like the quiet, and he guessed they were going to be trouble even if he sent the others away. On the other hand, having a couple of extra able bodies around to help...

"Oh, alright. But if you two want to help your teammates back on their feet, I could use a hand. Slingshot, keep him from moving. Fireflight, hand me that spanner I left lying next to Skydive. No... that's it, good. And bring that light over here, would you?"

Well, they weren't Wheeljack and First Aid, that's for sure, but it did beat working alone. And once he gave them something constructive to do, he was surprised how useful the winged devils could be. Fireflight scurried to bring him the light while Slingshot sat solidly on Air Raid's torso to keep him from squirming. Ratchet hid a tight smile at the F-15's vocal protests.

"Chill out, Raider," said the Harrier smugly. "We're just here because we care, remember?"

And sarcasm aside, of course, they _did_ care. Even if they had some funny ways of showing it.

- - - - -

For those of you wondering... First Aid was out on a mission with his brothers, and I guess Wheeljack's busy with something (either that or it's one of his rare days off). I didn't want to have too many characters interacting in the scene, so I left Ratchet's assistants out. I try to be lazy whenever possible.

I really enjoy the snark. For some reason Ratchet wasn't too grouchy today. Maybe he's only like that with some of his patients (aka the Twins). Or maybe he's just exaggerated in most fanfics. Regardless, he just wasn't as foul-mouthed and mean in this as I tried to write. Maybe it's just been a really long day and he's all screamed out. Yeah, that works.

Hee, Fireflight has now officially endeared himself to me with the origami line. Let me know if you guys liked this one!

**Elariel**: A real reply to your review would be longer than this chapter. All I can say is, thank you. It's nice to have real critique. As for your next request, it'll be coming up shortly. Don't worry, Flight will have his revenge.

**VAwitch**: Honestly, if not for being part of a Gestalt, I don't think Slingshot would get any action at all. He seems determined to be a jerk to everyone -- of course, it's all a front. I think Silverbolt actually enjoys getting Slingshot into intimate situations, since it's one of the few times he has any real control over him. I might explore that later for laughs.

**xXsomeoneelseXx**: Oh, good. I hoped someone else did, because I had waaay too much fun writing it.

**Veg1ma** and **bloodshifter**: Glad you enjoyed, there'll be more to come.

I noticed a lot of people have added this story to their Favorites list, but I've had very few reviews for each chapter so far. That may be because I'm posting them too quickly without waiting for responses. Still, anybody who reads this story and likes it, drop me some feedback, please! Even a simple "good job" makes the writing process much more rewarding.


	7. in which boredom is dangerous

7. In which boredom is dangerous

Air Raid grinned around at the bored faces of his teammates, then at the evening crowd in the lounge. He decided it was time for a game, and he knew just _which_ one. "Alright, guys. I dare y--"

The reactions were immediate.

"Oh, no!"

"Shut up!"

"Absolutely not."

"... But you didn't even let me finish!" His ever-expressive face managed to look both slyly innocent and charmingly disappointed.

"Air Raid," said Skydive, in the tone of someone explaining that head-on collisions _really_ hurt, "every time you start a conversation with the words 'I dare you', we end up spending the next day -- usually the next _week_ -- on punishment duty."

"Or in the repair bay!" Slingshot pointed out. "Remember 'Pin the Tail on the Dinobot'?"

"If I remember right, Sling..." began Air Raid.

"That was _your_ suggestion," Skydive finished.

"Yeah, but I didn't think one of you lunatics would go _through_ with it! I was just trying to get out of dawn patrol."

"Well, it worked out nicely then. You were off patrol duty for three days. Of course, you had to have your wings reattached and your nosecone replaced --"

"Sludge apologized, though," Fireflight added to no one in particular.

"Anyway, the point is, we were drunk then. We're not drunk now. And we're not playing another 'I Dare' game if I have anything to say about it." Skydive sat back decisively and drained his energon cube. Slingshot and Fireflight nodded.

Air Raid gave them all derisive looks. "You're all a bunch of wimps."

"Says the kamikaze jet," Slingshot snorted.

"I'm just trying to have a little fun. Is that a crime?"

"Usually."

"FINE! If you're all going to be such pansies, I'll take the first dare myself. Go on, challenge me!"

"Why not just walk up to Prime, tell him you're about to do something stupid, and ask for punishment in advance?" Fireflight asked reasonably.

Silence fell. The other two Aerialbots looked at one another, then at Air Raid, with growing trepidation.

The F-15 cracked up. It was the laugh of the insane, the I'm-heading-for-that-power-line-and-it's-gonna-feel-so-good cackle of the mentally damned. "That's the coolest dare ever! You're on."

He leaned across the table and gave his wingmate a swift kiss, to Fireflight's great confusion, then dashed out of the lounge before anyone could gather their wits to talk him out of it. Fireflight looked at his half-empty energon cube as if asking it what had just happened. Skydive just stared after Air Raid in mute horror.

After a moment, Slingshot smirked at Fireflight. "I dare you to tell Silverbolt you gave him the idea."

- - - - -

Short! Random! Pointless! I wish more chapters could be like this. That was almost too easy. I'll have to do something long and involved next to make up for it, I guess... oh well.

I haven't had time to get many reviews on last chap yet, but I'll respond to the ones I did get.

**VAwitch**: About time somebody told him that, really. I think the yelling-cursing-swearing Ratchet is a bit overdone in a lot of fics. Sure, some patients can drive him to that state, but he isn't like that the whole time he works or he'd drive _himself_ insane. Of course, that doesn't stop it from being very funny when it's written well.

**blood shifter**: I know what you mean. I was in the hospital after giving birth and I wouldn't stop poking at the hole in my hand where the I.V. was. It was creepy but kind of fascinating at the same time.

**RoseGad**: Crumpled paper airplanes works too.

**xXsomeoneelseXx**: I'm glad! Yeah, I had to include that line somewhere. It was going to be Slingshot's, but I decided it'd be cuter coming from Flighty. Also, I see him out of all the Aerialbots as having a bit of an artistic side.

Try to keep up, readers! My plot bunnies subsist on feedback, and they're starving!


	8. in which Earth literature is fun

8. In which Earth literature is fun (Follow-up to Chapter 6)

"What're you reading, anyway?"

Skydive glanced up from the text file in his hands. Air Raid was watching him curiously from his own recovery table, keeping his voice down so he wouldn't wake Silverbolt, who was lying between them. They were all supposed to be resting and Ratchet had explicitly stated that any noise would bring the wrath of Primus (by which of course he meant himself, possibly armed with welding torches and indecent-looking probing devices to inflict some _real_ holy justice) upon them.

"Just a human novel," Skydive whispered back. He would've preferred to use internal radios, but his was one of the many parts he'd damaged when Devastator attempted amateur sculpting on him, and Ratchet hadn't gotten around to fixing it yet. (He said he had better things to do, by which he probably meant Wheeljack needed help reattaching his hands again. Skydive was polite enough not to ask.)

"Oh." A pause. "Is it good?"

"It's... interesting. I'm trying to gain some insight into human viewpoints. I've gone through most of their mainstream philosophy and psychology texts, and now I've started on fiction. Relevent fiction, of course."

"Uh-huh." Air Raid sounded bored already. Of course, he'd been sounding bored since before their repairs were finished. He just didn't do well sitting still, especially now that their remaining brothers had finally been chased from the medbay. "How'd you get that in here?" He tried not to sound jealous; Ratchet usually confiscated anything fun his patients tried to bring in, including the electronic games the Aerialbots had become fond of.

"Flight brought it for me when Ratchet asked him to borrow some of Hoist's tools."

"What! Why couldn't he bring my gamepad then?" So much for not sounding jealous; Air Raid was positively petulant.

"He tried, but couldn't find it. Didn't you loan it to Cliffjumper?"

"Oh, yeah." Another pause. "Scrap. Guess I won't expect it back then. I'll have to go back to borrowing Slingshot's."

"You mean stealing."

"Naturally." Air Raid grinned. "So, what's this book about? I mean, why's some squishy author relevent to _us_?"

Skydive didn't answer for a moment, trying to locate his place in the story again. He didn't mind the questions, since he was actually grateful for an audience -- he rarely managed to gain one of his brother's undivided attention, especially Air Raid's.

"It's about a visitor from another world who gets stranded on Earth and needs a human's help to contact his home. It's about interspecies cultural and communication barriers and how they can be overcome, even when the two species have vastly different lifespans and ways of viewing the universe."

"Huh." Air Raid seemed to meditate on that for a moment. "Is that all? You said relevent, I thought it'd at least have a robot in it somewhere."

Skydive sighed in exasperation. "Never mind--" he was about to say, when Silverbolt spoke.

"Sounds like a good read to me. As long as you're going to be talking right over my battered carcass, you could share a couple of chapters out loud."

"Er... of course," Skydive stammered. He felt embarrassed, but a curious flush of pride welled up in his Spark at the same time. Silverbolt had a knack for making him feel valued, not just for his role as aerial strategist, but also by showing an interest in his odd hobbies and studies... as if they could actually contribute something worthwhile to the Autobot cause. "Would you like me to start from the beginning?"

Silverbolt smiled. "Please, if you wouldn't mind. I'll try not to interrupt with too many questions. Air Raid can listen in too, as long as he keeps the snarking to a minimum."

"I'm sure I'll find more entertaining things to do," Air Raid retorted. "Like... stare at the ceiling... and have a glaring contest with Ratchet when he comes to check on us... and watch my new paint dry..."

Nonetheless, as Skydive started aloud on the first chapter, Air Raid trailed off into silence. By the time Ratchet stopped in to check on their progress again, half an hour later, all three Aerialbots were deeply wrapped up in the story of _E.T. the Extraterrestrial_.

- - - - -

Apologies for the sappiness. I love _E.T_. -- it was one of my earliest favorite books/movies. Not only is it a great story, but the writing itself is so warm and human, and so dry and snarky at the same time. The sequel to the book is great too, it has 20 more randomness and a flying turnip. (No, seriously!)

Again, sorry there wasn't much to this one. Some of the 28 memes are harder than others. I can't seem to concentrate unless there's snogging going on.

**tomorrow4eva** and **blood shifter**: I might do a follow-up to that chapter later. I know Air Raid will do it, I just don't know how Prime will react. Given the way most of his troops behave, I don't think he's easy to surprise.

**xXsomeoneelseXx**: Oh good, you liked that too. I just threw it in there because it felt right. And poor Flight was so confused... heh, I love messing with his head.

**Tiamat1972** and **Veg1ma**: Yes, he's insane. And I have more fun writing him than any of the others, because I can sympathize with being so hyperactive all the time.

**Crimson Starlight**: I've read some of your fics! Loved them. My only complaint is that they end too soon. Thanks for the reviews!

**Artemis-chan**: Glad you like, I'll try to keep you laughing. And I've never taken a dare that _didn't_ turn out very, very wrong.

**A NOTE ON KISSING**: Since a couple people have asked this, I'll go ahead and say it. TFs kiss in most fanfics, in case you hadn't noticed. In my writing, though, kissing isn't something native to Cybertronians. It's something they pick up on Earth, mostly used for comical effect, because, like a lot of things humans do (yawning, retching, butt-wiggling, etc.) it just strikes them as funny.

Example -- Silverbolt's kiss in "Horny pt. 2" was done for comic effect and to shut Slingshot up, even though Slingshot did enjoy it a little too much. Likewise, Air Raid randomly kissing Flight at the end of "Daring" was more of a "Dude, that's an awesome idea and I could kiss you for it!" thing than a display of affection. Air Raid's more likely to kiss you as a joke than because he wants to snuggle. If he wants to snuggle, he'll just tackle you.

Hope that clears something up -- anyway, keep reading, folks!


	9. in which a lesson is taught

9. In which a lesson is learned (Follow-up to Chapter 3)

"-- and he goes, 'Dirge? What the hell? I was aiming for Thundercracker!' "

The twins and Bluestreak snickered with laughter as Cliffjumper completed his lively impersonation of Warpath, who was sitting right beside him. The tank attempted valiantly to defend his honor.

"Hey, a - _BAM!_ - blue jet's a blue jet! Besides, I didn't - _ZAPOW!_ - hear Slingshot complain."

Cliffjumper snorted. "And that's why you don't get assigned a lot of ground-to-air fighting."

"You're lucky none of the Aerialbots are blue," said Bluestreak with a giggle. "That could make for an embarrassing mistake one of these days."

"I almost shot Powerglide once thinking he was Thrust," Sideswipe commented as he dipped into his third cube of energon. In response to the chuckles, he said defensively, "I can't help it if even their _robot_ modes look alike!"

"Powerglide's just a stunted Conehead with delusions of grandeur." Sunstreaker's opinion was directed at Warpath, knowing the tank Minibot usually took offense on behalf of his friend. The Autobots' resident Daffodil of Doom could seldom resist an opportunity to provoke a fight.

Warpath, however, just chuckled ruefully and shook his head. "I think he's got - _ZZZAP!_ - bigger things to worry about. And I mean - _WOW!_ - _bigger_." He and Cliffjumper hooted as if at a private joke.

Bluestreak was looking around. "Hey, where is Powerglide anyway? Doesn't he usually hang with you guys?"

"He's nursing a bruised ego right n--" Cliffjumper glanced among the bigger bots. "Wait, you guys weren't there, were you? Did you even hear about it?"

"Hear what?" Sunstreaker snapped, irritated at being the butt of the inside joke.

Both Minibots erupted in guffaws of laughter. "Oh, it was the greatest--" "You had to - _POW! _- be there--" "Even _Beachcomber_ laughed--"

Sideswipe leaned forward, almost perking his ears with interest. "Tell, midgets. You have our complete attention, right guys?"

"Uh, sure," Bluestreak agreed. Sunstreaker simply nodded.

"Well, we were all kicking back on the beach yesterday afternoon, just us Minis, except Bumblebee and Seaspray 'cause they had patrol--"

- - - - -

"Don't know about this energon of yours, 'Comber." Brawn eyed the small cube in his hand a little suspiciously. "I'm getting a buzzing in my audios that I've never gotten from high-grade before. You sure it's fully processed?"

"Sure, it's all good, man." Beachcomber lounged back, piling sand idly in his lap for no apparent reason. "Just got a little somethin' extra, you know, to balance it out. Otherwise you get baaad discharges, y'know?"

"I think regular high-grade's perfectly fine, thank you very much." Gears had adamantly refused any of Beachcomber's "special" brew. "And I don't understand why we have to meet down here anyway. The sand is getting into places I honestly didn't need to know I had, and you _know_ no amount of time in a washrack is going to--"

"If the sand shorts out your vocalizer, we'll all be happy," Powerglide commented from where he and Warpath were idling a short distance away.

"Yeah, you guys - _BANG!_ - need to lighten up!"

"What he said," Cliffjumper added with a swaying toast from his own "special" cube (he'd had at least two already).

"Tell you what. You stop bragging, Powerglide, and I'll stop complaining." Gears pitched an empty cube in his general direction.

"I think we can _all_ drink to that," toasted Brawn enthusiastically. Gears shot him a dirty look, and Powerglide replied to them both with a rude gesture.

Beachcomber made no contribution, gazing thoughtfully out over the water. "Hey dudes," he said suddenly, "are my optics imagining things, or is... that... ?"

Silence fell. The Minibots all looked up in astonishment as Superion flew towards them in his seemingly effortless way, almost skimming the tops of the waves in a beeline for the beach. The sight of the giant warrior outside of battle was such a rare occurence that it held them in thrall, like a boatload of drunken fishermen suddenly silenced by the breaching of a whale on the horizon.

Only when the Gestalt giant slowed and came down to land in the shallows only meters away, did one of the Minibots break the rapture. Uttering a string of Cybertronian curses, Powerglide scrambled up and attempted to take to the air.

Superion jumped -- his towering mass and weight suddenly inconsequential -- and snagged the A-10 in mid-takeoff. The huge feet landed with a spray of sand, scattering startled Minibots everywhere, as Powerglide transformed swiftly back into robot mode and began writhing against his captor's grip.

"Put me down! Are you crazy? What are you going to--"

"Target located." The cold, reverberant voice silenced him at once. Powerglide cringed as he was brought close to the massive armored helm, expressionless visor scrutinizing him closely.

"Subject Powerglide is now designated a threat to Superion. Guilty of causing harm to a vital component of Superion. Superion must now act in self-defense."

Powerglide sputtered, completely without words for the first time he could remember. The Aerialbots he could reason with, they were Autobots, he was an Autobot... but Superion? He was a war machine. He had no sense of humor that anyone knew of, no function other than to terminate threats. If he had designated Powerglide a threat...

Then his Autobot sigil wasn't going to get him out of this one.

What _really_ unnerved him was that the arm currently holding him was Fireflight. But there was none of Fireflight's characteristic gentleness in the deadly, crushing grip of that huge black hand.

Panic finally loosened his tongue. "H-Hey look, big guy," he tried shakily. "I didn't mean to _harm_ anyone... I mean, it was just a little fun, it meant nothin', nothin' I tell ya!"

"Nothing?" The Minibot froze. That was Silverbolt's voice, coming from the giant's vocalizer. "Maybe not to you."

"We are not toys," said another Aerialbot voice. "We won't be used and then discarded by the likes of you."

"You see," said yet another, "trust is important to us."

"You betrayed our trust."

"Betray one Aerialbot..."

"And you betray us all," they chorused, all five voices converging in an eerie harmony that made Powerglide's circuits crawl. He couldn't take it any more.

"Hey, wait! Stop! I'm _sorry!_" he wailed. His ego went to curl up in the back of his processor while he proceeded to grovel shamelessly for his life. "I used him, okay, I admit it, I'm _really_ sorry, I didn't mean to hurt him and I just wanted a little tailfin, and I'm a shallow jerk and a total cad and... _please_ don't kill me!"

The giant paused, considering. There was no expression to read, no communication at all, and Powerglide was half-convinced his life was about to flash before his eyes.

Superion's shoulders straightened slightly. "Apology accepted," he boomed, and kneeling, placed Powerglide gently back on the sand.

The A-10 staggered, falling on his aft as his legs gave out completely. He looked up to see Superion striding calmly away up the beach, disappearing over the dunes as if nothing had taken place. A silence fell that made the previous one look like a deafening cacophany. Powerglide could sense his comrades' intense stares, and didn't dare look around. Nor did he speak; his vocalizer had brought him nothing but shame this time.

It was Beachcomber who broke the silence. "Well," he said in his smooth way, voice carrying the wisdom of the ages, "now you know."

_And knowing is half the battle!_

(End)

- - - - -

Well, there you have it. Of course, the Aerialbots probably went overboard with the drama and terrifying poor Powerglide out of his mind, but they were pretty ticked off. Don't worry -- with his ego, P.G. will be back to his annoying self soon enough. He just needed to be taken down a peg or two.

Now the question is, how did they _find_ out? That may be a story for yet another chapter, if you folks request it.

**CasusFere**: Glad to know I've got you addicted to the little buggers. They are insanely cute, aren't they?

**Tiamat1972**: Oh good, someone else remembered the turnip. Yeah, I like Skydive, I just don't get to use him all that much. Raid and Flight are really my favorites, so most of my chapters are biased toward them no matter how hard I try.

**Artemis-chan** and **Veg1ma**: Nah, Ratchet was so astonished to find Air Raid sitting still that he had to go and lie down a while, so he didn't get a chance to yell at them. :P Seriously, he doesn't object to quiet activities -- the reason he won't let 'bots bring in virtual games and such is because they tend to get overexcited about them, shouting at the bad guys and whatnot. (I know my little sister does.)

**tomorrow4eva**: No, actually I'm glad to have a geeky-minded reviewer who thinks about these things. Believe it or not, I'm on your side with this one. Kissing isn't normally something TFs do. Air Raid just includes it on his random list of things to do once in a while for no real reason (and it's actually one of the tamer things on that list)... and, well, I've already explained Silverbolt's reason. There won't be much kissing in naughtier chapters, just lots of indecent snuggling and groping.

And last but not least, **Virgo1**: Whoa. Honestly, I would've settled for an "I like the stories, they're fine, write more," but you practically gave me an essay. I worship you now. And I'm sending you a PM with my responses and some of my ideas and questions. Conversing with you may prove to be rewarding indeed.

Love you, readers! Love you, reviewers! Return the loooove! (Or give it to the Aerialbots, they totally deserve it.)


	10. in which Thundercracker gets some

10. In which Thundercracker gets some

(Warnings for cross-faction slash, groping and very dubious consent.)

Thundercracker could _not_ believe this.

Rather, he didn't want to be believe it. When it came to Skywarp, he'd learned long ago to be prepared for anything. But this...

"You could at least _try_ to pretend you're not enjoying it!" he harassed his wingmate over their comm.

The response was static, broken intermittently by bursts of exclamations that didn't quite form words, though their meaning was unmistakable. Thundercracker could only make out, "But he's-- I can't-- Oh, Primus!--"

A missile blossomed on his left and forced Thundercracker's attention back to the battle. He had to swerve sharply to avoid a pincer attack from Fireflight and Skydive, which unfortunately put him into Silverbolt's sights. A shot just grazed the tip of his wing as the Seeker executed a fantastic evasive maneuver that would probably have the Aerialbots gushing later. Throughout it all, he was inwardly cursing Skywarp.

_It was supposed to be a routine patrol_, said the voice in the back of his processor that never shut up, even when his life was on the line. _Why does this have to happen to me every time? Why couldn't I have been graced with smarter allies -- or saner enemies?_

He was very, very glad Starscream wasn't here to see this. Although, the red Seeker's aim and uncanny flying ability would have been welcome company right now.

"Listen to me, Skywarp! You are a Decepticon warrior! That Aerialbot is an enemy, and you _will_ defeat him!"

"But TC-- _EEEP!_ Stop that!" came the desperate cry, the last part not directed at Thundercracker.

Damn, Skydive was dogging him. The Seeker commenced to weaving and wobbling like mad. "I'm gonna get fragged up here, Warp, and if I do I'm coming back to haunt you! While you're playing with one of these monsters, the others are doing a pretty good job turning me into-- HEY! What the SLAG?"

The gray F-16 was doing more than dogging him now -- he was flying behind and just a little above, barely out of Thundercracker's exhaust trail, matching him turn for turn with eerie accuracy. The Seeker felt on the verge of panic.

As if that wasn't enough, he heard a wail over his wingmate's comm that didn't sound like static... and it didn't sound like a cry of pain, either.

He caught just a glimpse of him as he turned, trying to shake Skydive. The familiar black and purple jet was careering across the sky on a haphazard course, while a black and white Aerialbot clung determinedly to his frame in robot mode. It might look to an outside observer that Skywarp was being attacked, but that wasn't the case exactly. Granted, this _was_ supposed to be combat, and it _could_ be registered as an attack...

If so, it was a novel one, involving neither weapons nor blows, but the determined and shameless application of touches in just the right places to produce... well, the effect was impressive, to say the least. Skywarp was as incapable of combat as if someone had nailed him down to a runway. It was all he could do to keep from stalling and dropping out of the sky like a stone. And even if he could manage to shake off the persistent Aerialbot, the question remained of whether he really wanted to.

_Curse you to the pit, Skywarp_. Only his idiot wingmate could be put out of commission by something as simple as that. Any real warrior would--

A transformation noise was the only warning before a solid weight dropped onto Thundercracker's back, causing him to lose altitude sharply. As he managed to pull level again, he felt arms and legs latching securely onto his fuselage, and then a hand began to make its way along the rim of his cockpit...

_PRIMUS!_ He bucked, pitched and yawed in a startled attempt to escape, but it did no good. The hand slipped back and went to fondle the joint of his wing meeting his body. To his horror, an indecent shudder wracked his body, and his vocalizer spat out a mewling sound.

"... TC? You okay?" Skywarp sounded weak and frazzled.

"... Fine. Everything's just... fine." Frag it, at least the bastards weren't shooting at them... for now. They'd definitely get a good laugh out of it later at the Seekers' expense. Thundercracker, however, was rapidly losing his ability to care about a thing like that.

"The minute you stop, Aerialbot," he transmitted to the one on his back, "I'm going to kill you."

A chuckle in response. "You just keep thinking that." Fingers slipped into the hinge joint of his wing, stroking wires that really didn't need to be stroked in mid-flight. Thundercracker had to stop taunting and concentrate on remaining airborne, because he'd be slagged if he was going to crash before it was over.

Besides, what Starscream didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

- - - - -

Sorry if that seemed a little weird. Still suffering writer's block, and I kind of had to force this chapter to come out. The idea, though, has been floating in my head for days. (In case you couldn't tell, Air Raid grabbed Skywarp first, and then it's Skydive who jumps on Thundercracker. It's from the Seekers' point of view, so it might not have been clear.)

**Virgo1**: Told you I'd do it. Sorry it didn't come out better.

**Elariel**: Nice to be getting reviews from you again. I promise more cuddling and groping in future chapters, because I'm losing the battle with the horny plot bunnies anyway.

**Lady Ohina**: Glad to have you on board! Hopefully you won't have to wait long.

**Veg1ma** and **Crimson**: Superion does indeed kick aft.

**Artemis-chan**: They rely on each other in battle, so it's only fair they'd stick up for one another in their personal lives.

**tomorrow4eva**: I think Superion's coldness has more to do with his combat programming, but Silverbolt's seriousness definitely gives him an edge. I also think that being addressed in the Aerialbots' voices was actually the scariest part for Powerglide.

**Silveriss**: They cracked up and toasted Powerglide's stupidity, I'd imagine. Nothing too special, and I didn't want to wander too far from the focus of my story (the Aerials), but I might edit that chapter later to include their reaction. Otherwise I leave it to your imagination.

Hearts to my readers. Give me your thoughts!


	11. in which Slingshot needs a hug

11. In which Slingshot needs a hug

(Warnings for trauma of the physical and mental variety. Flashbacks contain violence of a disturbing nature.)

_Some of the worst damages inflicted in war are not received in combat. It's horrific enough to have a limb shattered by an anonymous bullet in the thick of a firefight when you never see your enemy's face and have already resigned yourself to the possibility of death. But when the ones who hurt you are face to face, when the damage is personal and inflicted purposefully, when you have ceased to be a threat or have any hope of fighting back and become merely a victim... Those who survive such an experience may never be the same._

"Silverbolt? How is he?"

The Aerialbot leader was not surprised to find Ratchet beside him, their optics fixed on the same thing. He sighed.

"You can see for yourself."

If Slingshot were huddled over his cube any further, he might fall in. Despite the number of mechs relaxing or chatting in the lounge, there was no one within any distance of him except the other Aerialbots. Air Raid and Fireflight sat on either side of him, while Skydive sat directly across, blocking prying eyes while watching over Slingshot's shoulder in case anyone should come up behind him. They were all pretending to be immersed in casual conversation, but the real reason they were there was transparent.

"Poor kid," Ratchet observed in a much softer voice than his patients were accustomed to hearing. "Has he talked to anyone?"

"You mean other than us? No. And he hasn't been too talkative in the common room either. He's trying to tough it out, pretend like it doesn't bother him... after all, he's been injured before."

"In fights, yes. This is different." _The panic in Slingshot's eyes when he woke in the repair bay, the way he jerked from Wheeljack's touch when the engineer was only feeling to make sure a weld was secure, the smudges on his face and arms in the shape of handprints made with his own fuel_... "He's going to need help, whether he wants it or not. If you guys can't get through to him, we'll have to send him to Smokescreen or--"

"Smokescreen?" Silverbolt echoed with a harsh stare. "That slick-talking con artist? Slingshot won't open up to him. He won't even go near a sports car right now, and I'm not going to make him, even if Prime himself orders it."

Ratchet opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by a shout of terror.

Tracks had been shoved by one of the Minibots and collided with the back of Slingshot's chair. It was an accident, nothing malicious, but the Harrier leaped out of his seat with a strangled yelp, and whirled to face Tracks with wide optics. The startled Corvette backed away, trying to apologize, but Slingshot didn't seem to recognize him--

_A glimpse of tires, a flash of light off polished enameled armor, was all it took to register as a Stunticon. Drag Strip, mouth twisted in a vicious smirk as he crashed his fists into the flier's face... Wildrider, cackling with child-like glee as he drove his fingers into the seams of his body panels and wrenched them loose, grabbing handfuls of exposed wires and jerking until Slingshot nearly offlined from the pain... or worst of all, Motormaster, his massive weight pinning the Aerialbot down as he began ripping, first an armor panel, then a wing, the other wing, then an arm..._

Panic gripped him so tightly he couldn't think. A second ticked by, then two, each seeming to last an eternity. Time had no meaning -- the Stunticons had only gotten hold of him for a couple of minutes, but they had felt like hours. Not to mention how long afterwards he'd lain in a state of semi-consciousness, replaying those couple of minutes over and over in his locked processor, until he came to in the repair bay with a newly attached arm and half his armor missing.

"Sling?"

The voice pierced through everything around it and broke the frozen moment into shards. Time started again. Slingshot found himself facing a confused and alarmed-looking Tracks, with Air Raid and Fireflight between them, standing close together so that their wings and bodies gave their teammate cover.

"... Sorry, Tracks." His voice sounded raw and hollow, but it was his and he spoke calmly. "Don't know what came over me."

The Corvette looked from him to his teammates, who glared back protectively. He didn't know what had happened, but he decided to take what looked like the smartest course of action.

"That's all right, it was my fault. Forget about it."

As if on cue, all the mechs who had turned at the commotion went back to their business, though a few surreptitious stares lingered. Ratchet, who had been tensed to intervene, relaxed slightly.

"You can take your hand off my shoulder now," he growled to Silverbolt. "I'm not going to charge in and make a fool of myself."

The remaining Aerialbots had settled back down. Skydive asked Slingshot quietly if he'd like to go back to the common room, but Slingshot shrugged him off with an, "I'm fine." He went back to nursing his energon cube, while conversations gradually resumed around him.

"That was close," Ratchet muttered. Silverbolt nodded.

"But you saw how they dealt with it. Slingshot isn't alone, whatever he thinks. I didn't order the team to follow him here -- they've been sticking to him like magnets ever since they left the common room. And the whole time he was hiding in there yesterday, there were at least two Aerialbots with him every minute. If they can't undo whatever the Stunticons to him, no one can."

Once more, Ratchet cast his eye over the group. Slingshot still looked haunted, but he glanced up at his wingmates from time to time, and the medic could swear he saw a brief smile flit across his face as Air Raid cracked a lewd joke.

"You won't hear this from me often, Silverbolt, and don't breathe a word of it to anyone... but I think you might be right."

_This is dedicated to PTSD and those who suffer from it -- to POWs (and not just American ones), abused prisoners, and to all victims of assault and violence who have to live with the aftermath. It's hard to pick up the pieces, and no one should have to do it alone._

- - - - -

Whew, sorry folks. I knew the Angst chapter would be dark, and I knew it would star Slingshot. The rest had to be pulled out of the recesses of my brain. Turns out there's some pretty ugly stuff in there -- I actually toned it down quite a bit for this drabble. I promise some light and fluffy pieces in the near future to make up for it.

On a lighter note, here are some replies for all the reviews to Chapter 10!

**ryagelle**: Ooh, I've snared another one! I shall start fishing for readers using a dangling cuddly Fireflight as bait!

**blood shifter**: Of COURSE they liked it! You don't think they get much groping in the militaristic Decepticon ranks, do you?

**Crimson**: Well, you know, TC doesn't get to have much fun (see above comment).

**Artemis-chan**: Yes, but few are more humiliating. :P

**Veg1ma**: Silverbolt is trying to decide whether it's worth punishing them for it. I don't think he will, though. And Air Raid got the idea from Sideswipe, so before long they'll probably start a running competition to see who gets to grope Starscream first.

**Lady Ohina**: I actually have a screencap of Superion on top of Menasor from the cartoon. It looks hilariously suggestive. I'm not too fond of Gestaltmode!Sex, but I might try it sometime just for the giggles.

**Virgo1**: Oh, he badly needed to get snared in this nonsense. It was inevitable. Especially once he dared to have that thought that "a REAL Decepticon warrior wouldn't be put out of commission by something so silly." Really, he brought it on himself. Lucky him. Wants to be molested by Aerialbots too

And YES, there will be a follow-up to the Daring chapter... in fact, it's tied in to the Naughty chapter as you will see shortly. I didn't mean for any of these to be interconnected, but I guess most of them will be, the way things are going.


	12. in which drunken leaders are fun

12. In which drunken leaders are fun

(Warnings: Contains drinking, language, and crude humor. All for the lulz, of course.)

The words on the pad were starting to run together again. Silverbolt stopped, refocused, allowed his optics to refresh a couple of times before picking up where he'd left off. _How does Skydive do this so often?_ he caught himself wondering for about the fifth time. _It must take constant practi_--

A glowing cube thumped onto the tabletop in front of him, almost making him jump. He didn't bother to look up. "Not now, Air Raid."

A soft chuckle. "Care to guess again?"

Silverbolt whirled and found Skydive beside his chair, looking a bit smug and ever-so-slightly sheepish. The team leader stared at him a second, then turned to peer scrutinizingly at the energon cube. "Where did you get that?"

"From Ratchet. I'll have to pay him back, of course, but when he found out what it was needed for he insisted."

This time Silverbolt _gaped_ at him. "Ratchet lent you some of his high-grade? What did you do, offer to scrub the oil-change pans for a month?" Suspicion crossed his astonished mind. "Wait -- what _do_ you need it for?"

"Well, I never said _I_ did." There was definitely smugness in his face now. Silverbolt tried to decide whether to feel flattered, betrayed, or scandalized.

"No. NO. You can't possibly mean for me to--"

"Get drunk off your afterburners, so that we have to drag you back to the common room and have stories to bug you about for at least the next decade? Oh, yeah." Slingshot waltzed in, right on cue, his brothers following like grinning accomplices. "Now are you gonna go along with it, or do we have to jet-pile on you?"

Silverbolt knew the smallest Aerialbot wasn't joking in the least -- and from the looks on their faces, the other two were happily playing along. In desperation he glanced at his usual ally, but Skydive just shook his head.

"Sorry, boss. Even Ratchet said you need this."

Seeing no avenue for escape, Silverbolt turned back to the cube, sitting there glowing impatiently. He made a quick calculation: Would he lose more dignity if he gave in and chugged Ratchet's infamous processor-siezing brew, or if the entire team piled on him in full view of the lounge and used Primus-knew-what means to force him to capitulate? The answer was pretty obvious, if not exactly welcoming.

Just to reassure himself, he glanced around. There wasn't much of a crowd, not at this hour. Smokescreen, Beachcomber of all people, and Trailbreaker and Brawn all glanced back at him or ignored him utterly. No officers around, and nobody with a particularly big mouth -- except his own team, of course.

Well, he knew what he had to do. Humoring them just this once couldn't do that much harm, could it?

"All right, but I'm taking you lot with me."

**- - An hour or three later - -**

"... And it's flap, flap, flap, salvation from aboooooove..."

Air Raid was fading fast; every three or four words he had to stop and slurr a couple of lines before he could catch up. (Not that this seemed to bother him, as he was rather intently focused on finishing his own cube.) Slingshot's voice still rang out strong, naturally, while Skydive had settled for humming along. Silverbolt was leading the chorus, though in his current state, it had taken him three repetitions of the song to learn the lyrics.

"... Gleaming angels of loooove--" Silverbolt raised both his voice and his near-empty cube in toast-- "On migh-ty toas-ter wiiiiiiings!"

Fireflight joined in the last line out of habit, while Slingshot's vocalizer sputtered static and Air Raid nearly fell out of his chair. All across the lounge, several mechs applauded. The crowd had grown quite a bit since Silverbolt had started drinking, a fact which may or may not have been (but most probably was) related to the fantastic spectacle produced by sloshed Aerialbots.

"Moar!" bellowed Sideswipe as his brother raised a cube in tribute.

Jazz was in agreement. "Hells yeah! Encore!" Naturally, a fair crowd piped up along with him.

"Thank you, thank you." Silverbolt stood up proudly, flung his arms wide to the crowd, took a bow... and crashed to the tabletop where he lay sprawled, dead to the world.

A momentary silence followed. It was broken by Air Raid shouting "Finally!" and chucking his own empty cube over his shoulder, at which the crowd broke out cheering.

"Thought he'd never conk out," Air Raid added to his brothers, now sitting perfectly straight and talking without a trace of a slur. He scooped up Silverbolt's cube and whistled at the small amount left in it. "Drank almost the entire thing too. I'm beginning to develop a respect for the big guy."

"Well, Ratchet promised me the stuff worked every time." Skydive looked down thoughtfully at their dearly departed leader. "So I suppose we just leave him here?"

"Heck no. We drag him back to our quarters like Sling said. Then we go and raise hell, so when Prime hunts Silverbolt down to complain about us, he finds him passed out drunk."

"I _knew_ I would regret getting involved in this..."

"What about Slingshot?" Fireflight prodded their smallest wingmate with concern. Slingshot was the only one who'd been imbibing Ratchet's brew instead of the low-grade in Air Raid's cube. He looked almost ready to join Silverbolt in shutdown.

Air Raid snorted. "Show-off. I knew he couldn't handle it. We'll leave him here and let the Minis mess with him. He'll wake up a wiser mech."

"I doubt that, but I won't bother arguing." Skydive grabbed his leader's arm and began trying to tug him off the table. "Give me a hand here, Flight. Air Raid, grab his legs. If Prowl shows up asking questions..."

Air Raid shrugged. "We'll just tell him Bolt was following doctor's orders."

The three of them shuffled off with their awkward burden, squabbling and muttering under the amused eyes of the mechs in the lounge. Slingshot didn't appear to notice them leave, but sat staring straight ahead.

"I'll just sit here," he announced several minutes later to the empty table. "That's what I want to do."

And while he was at it, he might as well finish that cube Bolt had left him...

- - - - -

**Shadowcat9279**: Oh... Wow. I had hoped the last chapter would strike a chord with some people who'd been through similar, but I wasn't expecting such a heartfelt reply. Seriously, that's probably the sweetest review I've ever gotten. Thank you... and good luck working on your own "issues." I hope you have good friends to help. hugs back

**Artemis-chan**: Of course he doesn't deserve it. I didn't do it to be mean, but I kind of wanted people to feel sympathy for Slingshot for once. He's not a bad kid, and I want to explore his character further in later chapters, possibly in other fics as well. (Plus, Air Raid doesn't do angst well and I couldn't bring myself to do that to Flight.)

**Crimson Starlight**: Yes, he'll be fine. I'll probably write a sequel or two later. Oh, and I've loved your latest fics, btw!

**Lady Ohina**: They'll get what's coming to them, all right. Glad you enjoyed, I tried to write them with a lot of feeling but without overdoing the drama. I've never had PTSD, but many of my loved ones suffer from it in some form or other. I wanted to portray it realistically instead of the way it typically is in Whump!fics (which I admit to reading on a regular basis).

**tomorrow4eva**: If Slingshot opens up, I'm sure many other Autobots would be willing to help him through it. First he has to be willing to talk about it, though.

**Windwalker**: Oh, knowing my warped mind, there will be more dark stuff. Just not too much at once.

**blood shifter**: I will, it might be a while though. I don't have ideas for that one yet.


	13. in which Slingshot gets a hug

13. In which Slingshot gets a hug (Follow-up to Chapter 11)

Slingshot couldn't sleep.

It wasn't that he was having nightmares in recharge. In truth, he couldn't even _get_ into recharge. As soon as his systems started to shut down, memories of the attack resurfaced and alarms went off in his subconscious processor, jolting him back to awareness. It was probably something that Ratchet could've fixed easily, but Slingshot would be damned if he'd go crawling to the Autobot medic, whining like a sissy over a little lost sleep. He could _handle_ it.

Trouble was, it hadn't gotten any better. The first night he'd toughed it out, laid there thinking about the most relaxing things he could, counted ceiling tiles out of boredom while his wingmates snoozed blissfully around him. He hadn't wanted to wake them (and have to deal with their concern), so he faked going into recharge while the others were settling down.

The next day he'd been a little groggy, but not so much that he couldn't fly just fine. Heck, he flew better sleep-deprived than Fireflight on a good day, so it's not like anyone noticed. Besides, they hadn't had any combat missions that day.

But now it was the second night in a row, and he was really starting to panic. Maybe Ratchet had missed something, something the Stunticons messed up. Come to think of it, Wildrider had been tearing up a lot of wiring...

He'd briefly debated going to see him after all, but his pride won out at the last minute. What was _wrong_ with him, anyway? Ace jet, hotshot of the skies, terror to Megatron's elite, and he couldn't manage a little _sleep_? What good would he be in the air if this kept up? What kind of soldier was he, if he let a little enemy encounter mess him up this bad? No good to the Aerialbots, that was for sure.

Doubting voices he hadn't heard in years surfaced in his exhaustion-logged processor. One voice in particular kept repeating accusations of weakness and worthlessness, until he was ready to scream out loud.

Finally he sat up, flung himself off the recharge berth in frustration, and started to storm out of the team's quarters -- maybe an hour or two in the rec room would settle his nerves. He didn't realize how loud he'd been until one of the other Aerialbots stirred as he passed.

"Mmh... Sling?"

Slingshot hesitated, then looked down at his teammate. "Go back to recharging, Flight. S'alright."

Sensing otherwise, the red Aerialbot sat up. "It's late... What're you doing up?" Even groggy, his voice held concern, and he was peering at Slingshot intently. Maybe he hadn't been hiding his problems as well as he'd thought.

"Nothing," he said defensively. "Just couldn't sleep."

"Oh." Thoughtful. "Again?"

Slingshot sighed in frustration. _I can't keep anything from these people, can I?_ "Look, I really don't wanna talk about it."

Silence... then a rustle of movement as Flight stood up. Slingshot stiffened as he felt the other flier's arms wrap loosely around him. His vocalizer failed him for once, while his processor warred between vastly different suggestions of how to react.

"What are you doing?" he finally squeaked.

The arms holding him shrugged. "I dunno. Hugging you?"

Sometimes he wondered if Fireflight was actually a little dense, or if he just thought everyone else was and talked accordingly. "What makes you think I need one?"

"You're not letting go."

Slaggit all, he _was_ clinging to Flight like a sparkling. He tried to let go, but his hands refused. They were shaking badly, too. He told himself it was the lack of recharge -- the same reason his head was now tipping slowly forward to rest, lightly and then fully, on Fireflight's shoulder. One of the arms encircling him began petting, running gently up and down the cockpit behind his head, and something rigid inside him broke.

He collapsed against his wingmate with a full-body shudder, and a whimper that managed to escape just before he muted his vocalizer. Silently he let out scream after scream, while Fireflight's grip tightened and a shudder ran through the other jet as if he, too, could feel the same pain. They clung together for an indeterminate time while Slingshot's anxiety and terror wracked them both. Eventually it was too much and Fireflight half-sank, half-fell down to sit on the berth, though he didn't relinquish his grip at all.

Gradually the storm passed and Slingshot came back, weak and utterly drained, curled up in Fireflight's lap. He couldn't even summon the strength to be embarrassed. His head remained on his teammate's shoulder as his hands came up, weakly, to stroke Flight's upper arms.

"Thanks," he croaked, not sure how to carry the gratitude he felt in his voice. It had been a long time since he'd said anything so sincere.

"S'okay." Flight sounded a little unsteady himself, but gave Slingshot's head a reassuring nuzzle, and the Harrier could feel his smile. "Feel better?"

"Y...Yeah. I think so..." Primus, he was tired. Still, he didn't feel wired and on edge anymore, like he had to keep glancing over his shoulder. In fact, he felt... safe. Somewhere, the lingering sensations left by the assault on his body had faded, almost but not entirely replaced by the warmth and closeness of another Aerialbot's embrace.

It felt so _nice_.

"Think I wanna lay down," he mumbled. "Mind if I... lay down here?"

"Sure." Fireflight shifted around until Slingshot got comfortable on the bunk -- never quite breaking their contact -- then lay down on his side with his chest against the Harrier's fuselage. A couple of Sling's fins had to fold down for him to snuggle close, but once they did it made a comfortable fit. He could feel Slingshot's body relax as the quiet humming of their systems warmed them both.

"Think I... c'n sleep now..." Slingshot's optics flickered, sensors switching off as his body at last slipped easily into recharge. Five seconds later he was out, without so much as a twitch.

_Good thing it was me and not Air Raid_, Fireflight thought. _He'd never let him live this down. Come to think of it, he probably won't anyway..._

Oh well, he thought as he pressed close to his wingmate and followed him into recharge. A good night's rest was worth a little sacrifice of pride.

- - - - -

**Artemis-chan**: See, was that so bad? ;) Oh, and as for Ratchet... how do you think he copes with HIS job? Yep, plenty of high grade -- when he's off duty, of course. As for Silverbolt, he knows the team well enough to totally sympathize with anyone who has to be in charge of them. He figured if anyone needed a drink besides him, it had to be the leader of the Aerialbots.

**Crimson**: Well considering they did it with the best of intentions... there's only so mad he can get, right?

**Veg1ma**: I wish my boss would get drunk.

**tomorrow4eva**: Air Raid IS evil. Seriously. He can give Megatron a run for his money. :P I actually think he almost likes getting Silverbolt angry because he's less "boring" then.

**Lady Ohina**: Oh, that is priceless. Wish I'd thought of it, now I can't use it. Though I might write the "morning after" in a later chapter once I figure out what happens to them all. (And actually, Ratchet's high-grade prescription is a standard remedy for overworked patients and people he just generally finds annoying. I ought to write him ordering Prowl or Red Alert to get smashed sometime. That would be awesome.)

My reviewers are slacking... Then again, so am I. Please give me some feedback for this chapter! I'd like to think more than a half-dozen people (wonderful people, of course) are actually reading this.


	14. in which Sideswipe is helpful

14. In which Sideswipe is helpful (Follow-up to Chapter 7)

"Care to let me in on it?"

Startled out of his reverie as he strolled down the hall, Air Raid stopped and looked around at Sideswipe. "Huh?"

The red warrior leaned back against the wall and folded his arms, mirth in anticipation of devilish mayhem already spreading across his handsome face. "Whatever you're up to. It must be good to set you off grinning like that. And I could use a little excitement."

The Aerialbot considered him carefully, automatically scanning the hallway. "Where's your other half?"

"Recharge. Got slagged up pretty good last mission, so Ratchet slipped something into his energon. Just me, myself and I tonight." A one-shouldered shrug mirrored the lopsided smirk. "Like I said, I could use some excitement."

If Air Raid had a kindred spirit among the sports cars, it was Sideswipe. They both had a reputation for pranks, risks, and general stupidity that made their superiors often want to wring their necks and save the 'Cons the trouble. Both would rather be up to their audios in trouble than bored, and both viewed battle as a game more than a serious business. They'd collaborated before, though on a strictly casual, no-contract basis -- there was little honor amongst troublemakers after all, and if Sideswipe decided it would be more fun to turn the prank on the Aerialbot, he'd do so in a nanosecond. (And vice versa.) He had no loyalty save for his brother, and Air Raid had none outside of his team. This made for a perfect understanding between them.

Proudly the jet struck a pose. "I'm on a mission," he declared, "to annoy Prime and probably get myself thrown in the brig."

One eye-ridge twitched in amusement. "Is that all?"

The Aerialbot folded his arms. "Not exciting enough for you?"

"Well, it's a start," conceded Sideswipe. "But Prime's not an easy guy to get an audience with, especially at the end of the day. You got a plan?"

Air Raid laughed. "Me? A plan?"

"Guess not. Fortunately, I happen to be a pretty talented mech when it comes to these things. What would you say to an ally?"

A crooked grin. "Dunno. I've never met one."

Sideswipe snickered. "Have I mentioned I like you, flyboy? Come on, let's go annoy the boss."

- - (Uh-oh) - -

"Optimus, sir. May I speak to you a moment?"

"Of course, Prowl. Come in--"

"Yo! **C.O.!**"

Prowl's doorwings twinged ever so slightly as the dread voice echoed brazenly up and down the hallway. He waited a beat before turning slowly as Sideswipe sauntered up, exuding an air of cheery humor and good clean fun. (If he wasn't about to blow up the base, Prowl would be seriously surprised.)

"What is it, Sideswipe? I'm busy."

"I can see that," the warrior replied with straight-faced earnestness. "It's such a striking contrast to your usual laid-back, fun-loving self."

Optics narrowed ever so slightly under a scowling chevron. The tactician's doors gave an ominous twitch. "I don't have time for frivolous nonsense, nor does Prime. If this isn't something of dire importance--"

He fell silent as Optimus's hand settled lightly on his shoulder. "Just a minute, Prowl. What is it you want?" he addressed Sideswipe shortly. He knew the twin well enough to know his appearance here meant trouble, and decided it was better to find out and have done with it.

Prowl started to speak again, then shut his mouth with a resigned look. _Your funeral_. He too knew that Sideswipe was up to no good, but his policy of dealing with the prankster was to ignore him unless his antics posed a serious threat. Humoring the Lambourghini only encouraged him to continue the behavior. Still, Prime was the boss.

Sideswipe shot the barest smug grin at Prowl, then gave Optimus his full attention. "I wouldn't interrupt you for anything less than a matter of life and deactivation, _sir_. I just feel it's my duty as an Autobot to inform you that there's mischief and... bad stuff afoot."

"No doubt," Prowl commented drily. "Should I put you in irons now as a preventative measure?"

To his credit, Sideswipe managed a fairly convincing wounded expression. "I'm _shocked_ you think so little of me! Of course I wouldn't warn you about _my_ evil plans. That would take all the fun out of your job." He made as if to pat Prowl on the shoulder, but thought better of it at the last minute.

Optimus sighed, beginning to think he'd prefer Prowl's reports to whatever was in store for him. "Get to the point."

"Of course, Your Eighteen-Wheelness." He ignored Prowl's disapproving glare at the flippant lack of protocol, and turned to address someone listening around the corner. "Come forth, evildoer, and confess thy sins!"

Air Raid stepped out, almost disconcerted to find himself so clearly the focus of both officers' attentions. Sideswipe hadn't merely been bragging when he spoke of his talents. Now what was he supposed to say? Oh yeah. He braced himself, told himself it was just another dare, and opened his mouth.

Except his vocalizer wouldn't work.

He shut his mouth, opened it again, then shut it. The other three continued to stare at him. Sideswipe was smirking now that Prowl couldn't see his face, but it was hard to tell if he was smirking at their reaction or Air Raid's hesitation. Prowl was deadpan as usual. Optimus looked confused, puzzled... and increasingly annoyed.

_I'm about to do something really stupid which you're probably going to punish me for, so I thought I'd get it over with_... Slag it, how hard was it to say those words?

Prime's brow creased into an ever so slight impatient frown. Prowl's optics cycled, still expressionless. Sideswipe glanced at an imaginary watch.

Air Raid suddenly found his voice... and found his feet carrying him backward at the same time.

"I'vejustcompletelywastedyourvaluabletime! So long suckers!" And with that, he sped off down the corridor, half-laughing and half-gibbering in terror.

Sideswipe's mouth fell open.

"Primus in a piñata, you mean that was _it?_"

There was a second or two of silence... then, to the consternation of Prowl and Sideswipe alike, Optimus Prime burst out laughing.

Author's Note: C.O. Commanding Officer, for those of you who didn't get that.

- - - - -

... Wow, that was weird. I'm probably drinking too much coffee at work again...

My pleas have been heard! The masses have responded with a flood of reviews! To show my gratitude, I will flood back!

**ryagelle**: Flight is a lot smarter than people think. He may miss the obvious, but he's also perceptive about things other people miss.

**blood shifter**: I'd love to have a brother like Fireflight. Nobody likes nightmares, do they?

**Lady Dragon2**: Good, then my plan is succeeding.

**Artemis-chan**: I heart him too! and yes, he is. He'll get to star in more chapters simply on account of being my favorite.

**VAwitch**: That's okay, I understand busy. And Slingshot's, well, Slingshot. It's not easy for him to accept vulnerability. But he's got feelings the same as everybody else.

**Silveriss**: My favorite kind of therapy. ;)

**Veg1ma**: Nah, he'd get bored before he even finished plotting his world takeover.

**Lady Ohina**: I admit Sling isn't my favorite, but according to his bio he mostly acts like a jerk to cover low self-esteem: He dislikes himself, so he acts unlikeable. It's hard not to feel sorry for him, knowing that. (Actually, Air Raid probably would have teased him, but only to make him laugh and feel more "normal." He knows Sling would feel really awkward accepting a hug from him and would rather exchange banter; that's just how they get along.)

To everyone else: Glad you enjoyed the snuggles! More to come, I promise!


	15. in which Ironhide gets TOLD

15. In which Ironhide gets TOLD

(Warnings for violence. Aerialbots get banged up, and Silverbolt gets mad. Yay drama.)

The yelling was what caught Skydive's attention. He looked up from the datapad he was studying to find two of his brothers in a shouting match with a member of the Protectobots. Having tuned out the last twenty minutes or so of conversation (as he tended to do when reading), he wasn't sure what had started the argument, but considering which 'bots were involved, it probably hadn't taken much.

"What do the Autobots need with a helicopter anyway?" Slingshot was saying. "You think you can outmaneuver Seekers with those rotors? Slag it, I bet you can't even _catch_ one."

Blades responded with a sneer. "I've got more important things to do than chase after those oily tailfins you flyboys are so obsessed with. Besides, you wouldn't know the first thing about _real_ fighting. Everyone knows you prefer taking down Decepticons from a nice, safe rifle range, Slingshot."

The Aerialbot rose from his chair in indignation. "_Safe?_ You're asking to have those rotors _fed_ to you with that kind of talk! Try taking a bead on a moving jet in robot mode when you're freefalling over a hundred miles an hour! I'll bet you won't find a single other 'bot in the Ark who can pull _that_ off."

"Uh-huh. Funny no one else ever sees you do these amazing things..."

"I've seen him do it." Air Raid was grinning almost from audio to audio, the tight strained grin that he usually had just before he jumped into the path of a strafing Seeker. "You calling me a liar?"

"Well, while we're on the subject, I may as well call your friend a liar _and_ a coward, all talk and no talent," Blades drawled leisurely. "But everyone knows that already. Still, I bet they _don't_ know about your little crush on the Seekers -- how you'd rather fondle their pretty wings than rip them off -- or how Silverbolt blasts them himself to cover for you. Not something he would have to worry about if he'd bothered picking real warriors instead of a personal harem--"

Both Aerialbots were leaping over the table before he even finished the sentence. Fireflight looked around in consternation, then scrambled after them, shouting something unintelligible to his brothers over the clangs of metal hitting metal.

_Oh, dear_. Almost lazily, Skydive put down the datapad and sent a transmission to Silverbolt. "Boss, we got trouble in the lounge."

The terse reply was immediate. _"How bad?"_

Skydive winced slightly as Slingshot crashed into a table, upsetting several energon cubes and the Minibots who'd been drinking from them. "Well, it's not pretty. Blades is involved."

_"Frag... Better safe than sorry, then. I'm on my way."_

Already a small ring of spectators was forming, mostly egging the fighters on and occasionally pushing one of them back into the brawl. No officer in sight to quell them, not that most would have bothered. These things happened -- though perhaps not as contentious as their foes were said to be outside of battle, Autobots _did_ brawl, and usually such things resolved themselves pretty quickly. Usually.

Fireflight, though, was pretty upset, and kept trying to get between his two angry brothers and Blades... unfortunately, even though he wasn't actually involved in the fight, this put him in the way of a lot of punches.

Suddenly, Skydive saw the red jet go down hard. He couldn't follow everything that was happening, so he didn't know if it was just an accident or if Blades knocked him out of the way on purpose... but the pained cry, somehow audible above the cacophany, and the sight of Fireflight curled up on the floor holding his face seemed to stop time for a second. When it started again, Skydive had leaped forward and was trying desperately to stop his brothers from murdering the Protectobot.

"You sorry son of a glitch--!"

"I'll slice you open with your own rotors--"

Fists rang against armor, fingers ripped at seams. Keen melee fighter that he was, Blades found himself in over his depth. With two of his brothers out on patrol, a third working shift in the repair bay and their leader nowhere in sight, he was on his own against the angry jets -- and not even sure how many were attacking him. As he fell back, cursing under the onslaught, one hand went almost without thinking to pull out his blades. He wasn't going down without a fight--

Fortunately, intervention arrived about then. _Un_fortunately, it wasn't Silverbolt who got there first.

Ironhide stormed in, unnoticed at first in the chaos. He took one glance at the brawl -- seemingly three mechs ganging up on a single individual who was struggling to defend himself -- and promptly waded in, sending all three Aerialbots flying with a swing of his fist.

Air Raid caught the worst of the blow and was out cold before he hit the ground. The other two sprawled next to him in a daze, their processors ringing. As their senses returned, they could hear Ironhide bellowing. The older mech paused briefly to offer a hand to the Protectobot struggling up off the floor, then launched into a tirade directed at the jets. With his accent and the volume of his voice they could only make out about half of what he was saying, but the intent was clear.

"-- expected somethin' like that from you lot, but if I ever see that kind o' cowardly, dishon'rable assault on a fellow 'bot again, I'll have you all nailed to a wall o' the brig by yer wings!" For emphasis, he grabbed the two conscious mechs and hoisted them almost off the floor. "Are you hearin' this? If you need a lesson or two in fair fightin', I'll be glad to provide one. Jus' keep flyin' around here like you own the place, an' one o' us'll set ya straight 'n no time. We don't put up with that slag -- not from 'Cons, an' not from smartmouth flyboys, even if they wear our symbol. Got it?"

Skydive tried to explain, but his vocalizer seemed frozen in the face of such anger, and he couldn't bring himself to meet Ironhide's optics. He glanced at his brother. Slingshot's bravado had wilted, and his expression was one of sheer terror. He seemed convinced Ironhide was about to beat the living daylights out of them -- and Skydive was beginning to think that was a very real possibility.

"Let go of my team."

The voice, compared to Ironhide's bellowing, was almost unnaturally calm. Yet all focus in the lounge shifted immediately to its owner.

Silverbolt stood in the doorway, his arms folded and his posture tense. He didn't glance around the lounge at all, but locked his optics on Ironhide's as soon as he had the other mech's attention. His face was hard and set -- Optimus couldn't have worn a less revealing mask. "Drop them. Now."

Ironhide grunted, almost disgustedly, but he released his grip on the two Aerialbots. They immediately took several steps back from him, moving close to their brothers. Without another word, Silverbolt unfolded his arms and stepped forward, his gaze traveling over his team.

Air Raid was still unconscious, and Fireflight curled over him half-worriedly, half-protectively, his faceplate still dented slightly from where Blades had hit him. Slingshot sank down next to them, dizzy and shaken, his optics on the floor. Only Skydive remained standing and faced their leader.

"What happened?" Silverbolt asked quietly.

"It was an argument that got out of hand. Just Raid and Sling at first, but then Flight tried to stop it and got hit, and then it got serious. I jumped in to try and--"

"Liar," sneered Blades over Ironhide's shoulder. "It was three against one from the start. I was just defending myself."

"Save it," Silverbolt snapped at him. "You can tell your version to Hot Spot later." Ignoring the Protectobot for a moment, he knelt down to look at Air Raid. When he straightened, the mask was gone -- anger was written all over his face. It was an unusual and unsettling expression on the normally level-headed Aerialbot leader.

He stormed over to Ironhide and got right in his face. "What the hell were you thinking?" he asked in a low voice.

The older mech didn't waver an inch. "What d'you think? It wasn't a fair fight, an' it's not the first time they've caused trouble. If you're not gonna put a leash on yer team, I will. An' if I have to knock 'em on their afts to get the message across--"

He got no further. Something in Silverbolt almost audibly _snapped_. Nearly everyone in the room, Blades included, took an involuntary step back at the change in his expression and demeanor. Between one word and the next, he had actually managed to tower over Ironhide and force him back a few steps. His voice rang out loud enough for half the Ark to hear.

"You heavy-handed _idiot!_ I'm through putting up with your slag! I've been patient, I've been compliant, I've tried to be a model officer and impress you all-- but this is _enough_." He seemed to grow larger as he spoke, until he was metaphorically filling the entire lounge. "You've threatened my team before, claiming they're a pack of delinquents, and everyone else turns a blind eye, because nobody gives a damn. No one's going to stick up for the new guys, especially seeing as you all resent us for being the only jets who wear _your_ symbol. You need us, but you feel free to judge us anyway. You don't even know us, Ironhide. You don't know _them_ like I do. And you've never bothered to find out. All fliers are Seekers to you."

His words actually seemed to cut into the old war machine; Ironhide's optics widened slightly and then narrowed. He opened his mouth to retort, but for once the hard words failed him, and Silverbolt carried on his heartfelt diatribe as the other Aerialbots watched in complete astonishment.

"We're not criminals. We deserve to be here as much as you do. We deserve some respect, even if we are just kids to you. If pushing around a bunch of kids makes you feel like a bigger mech, then go find another team to pick on, because I'll stand up for mine and we are NOT a group to mess with. I can have Superion deliver a lecture on that for you if you like. Or you can ask Blades here -- he made a mistake hurting one of us and the others made sure he knew it. Contrary to whatever you might think, Ironhide, my team doesn't go around starting trouble. But they will do whatever it takes to protect each other and no, I'm _not_ going to punish them for that, because that's _exactly_ what they're supposed to do."

He paused, fuming, internal fans working furiously to cool circuits heated by rage. Behind him, Air Raid let out a groan, starting to stir. Silverbolt didn't turn around, but Ironhide's gaze shifted briefly over his shoulder to look at the group. Fireflight was nudging his wingmate gently back to consciousness and Slingshot crouched by them both, looking up defiantly at Ironhide once more, ready to reach for his weapon if his brothers were threatened.

For just an instant, almost as though it were a trick of the light, the old warrior's gaze softened and a hint of what might have been remorse showed through. His optics met Silverbolt's again, and the Aerialbot commander dropped his voice low, so that the next few words were meant only for him.

"Respect, that's all I ask. Respect us and we might respect you. But Ironhide... I don't care how old you are or what your rank is anymore... if you ever, _ever_ lay a hand on one of my Aerialbots again, no matter how much you think they 'deserve' it... _Primus help you_."

The last few words were whispered in the cold, deep voice of Superion. Ironhide almost imperceptibly _flinched_. To his credit, not many mechs wouldn't have. He regained his composure quickly, however, and straightened up, ready to deliver his retort to the insolent flyer.

"I'll be damned, Silverbolt. You're startin' to sound like a real leader."

The Aerialbot blinked, taken aback by the compliment. Ironhide's voice, while still gruff, no longer held self-righteous anger and was instead tinged with... respect? Approval? Was he imagining things?

Before he could think of a response, the old mech clapped him on the shoulder. "Maybe I was wrong about you," he grunted. Then turned away, leaving Silverbolt to try and sort out his confusion.

_Did that just happen?_

Ironhide walked straight up to the other Aerialbots. He bent down over Air Raid, and Slingshot tensed, almost grabbing for his rifle. Ironhide stuck out a hand and held it there, extended. Air Raid looked at it uncertainly, as if it might just as well have grown out of a tree, then shrugged and took it. The bigger mech pulled him to his feet, assisted by Fireflight. He withdrew his hand and looked around the faces of the team.

"Sorry 'bout that," he said stiffly. Curt, professional, but enough awkwardness to show he really meant it.

Their optics cycled in a surprised blink. Then Air Raid cracked a grin and tapped the side of his helm. "Ah, don't worry about it. I've been knocked out by bigger. Ask Grimlock about Pin The Tail On The Dinobot sometime." He gestured to emphasize and swayed, almost hitting the floor again if Fireflight and Slingshot hadn't grabbed his arms. They both gave him fondly exasperated looks.

Ironhide just shook his head. _Crazy wingnuts_, he told himself. _I'll never understand 'em. Still, least they got a decent commander lookin' out for 'em. Maybe he's right -- maybe it's time someone gave 'em a chance_.

He nodded once more to Silverbolt, formally, one officer to another. "As y'were." And left without another word, pausing to grab an energon cube off of one of the tables that had been abandoned in the skirmish.

The lounge was dead quiet for perhaps five seconds, then a scattering of the spectators began to clap. Silverbolt sagged, having to lean against a wall for support, as his team came respectfully up to him.

"Did... did I just do that?" he asked incredulously.

"You sure did!" Fireflight's optics were alight, his awe transparent. "Way to go, Silverbolt!"

"Yeah, you _preached_ it, brother," drawled a woozy Air Raid hanging off his shoulder.

Skydive grinned and laid a hand on his shoulder. "That's our gestalt torso," he said fondly. His optics were proud.

Even Slingshot looked impressed. "Thanks for stickin' up for us, boss. I really thought he was going to wallop us for a minute there."

Silverbolt shook his head. "I won't let anyone hurt this team. You guys know that."

Air Raid smirked. "Yeah, I heard that part about us being 'your Aerialbots.' That made me wibble inside, I tell you..."

"Oh, cut it out, you sap!" Slingshot gave him a shove. "You're gonna start a group hug or something."

Immediately Air Raid pitched forward, letting go of Fireflight to fall on his brother, arms crushing Slingshot in a death grip. "I LOVE YOU, MAN!"

"You glitch, let go of me before I put another dent in your head!"

"Guys, hasn't there been enough drama already? Come on..."

"Oh leave them alone Skydive, I think they're cute."

"If you idiots don't stop spouting dribble and help pull this maniac OFF me, I SWEAR--"

The crowd which had gathered to watch the fight kicked back to enjoy this new entertainment... except for one. Blades turned away as the family continued bickering, wondering why it was making him feel _lonely_ all of a sudden.

Come to think of it, First Aid should be getting off shift pretty soon. He could have a look at the dings Blades had gotten in the fight... a couple of 'em _were_ pretty deep... and then maybe they could hunt down Groove and Streetwise and get them to sit down for drinks, chat for awhile, maybe even pry Hot Spot away from whatever leadership slag he'd gotten mired in...

There were times the young helicopter forgot he was part of a Combiner group, a bond that made him many times stronger than he would be alone. If nothing else, at least those fragging jets had served to remind him. Yeah, he'd go seek out his brothers and see if they wanted to spend some downtime with him. It'd be nice to get wrapped up in something other than battle for a change.

Quietly he slipped out of the Aerialbot-filled lounge and headed for the repair bay.

- - - - -

Oof, finally. I thought this chapter would never end. It was going to be really short, but then one thing led to another and... Oh well. In case you can't tell, the "Dominant" refers to Silverbolt finally asserting himself, to Ironhide no less. But this chapter actually displays a lot of emotions. I guess the 28 meme is just a little too limiting for these guys.

I've altered the ending a little, to make it less... ehh, sappy and belief-stretching. Still have Ironhide turning out nice in the end, and that bit of Blades sympathy. I'll keep the original ending saved to a file in case anybody stumbling on this later wants to read it, too. But I like this one better. (I think it's actually _longer_ though. Ugh.)

On to the reviews! Apologies that I've taken so long to update, but as you can see this chap was a monster. I'll try not to make you wait forever next time.

**blood shifter**: Maybe Sideswipe should give lessons.

**Veg1ma**: Yep, he lost the dare. Still, I think that's the best therapy Prime's had in a long time.

**Prime Revolver**: Well, I'm trying to show them as I see them, which is pretty likeable. If it persuades others to give them a chance as well, so much the better. Glad you liked it.

**ryagelle**: Calm down, girl. Breathe! Glad you enjoyed it, though.

**Virgo1**: Well, you already know what's going to happen. Heh heh heh...

**flamingmarsh**: Oh, I do understand. My little sis has the same problem putting things into words, even though she's really smart. You have my sympathy. Don't worry, I won't take offense. I promise you there's a lot of other things I can't do well at all, so being able to write makes up for it. Maybe I can help you out?

**Silveriss**: You're welcome.

**Lady Ohina**: Yes, Air Raid and Sideswipe certainly do make excellent tinfoil hats for each oth-- I mean, foils for each other. Doubly so when Sunstreaker isn't around and they're both bored out of their minds (as opposed to just being out of their minds, normally). Glad you giggled at those lines too, I thought "Primus in a piñata" was inspired myself. I'm hoping the followup to _that_ (Daring pt. 3 or whatever I call it) will be even funnier. ;)

Everyone else: Thank you! Your kind words brighten my so-cold Spark!


	16. in which Sideswipe scores

16. In which Sideswipe scores (Follow-up to Chapter 14)

(Warning: Um, naughty themes? Nothing graphic, but about what you'd expect Sideswipe and the Aerialbots to talk about... Also brief, easily-missed mention of Sunny/Sides intimacy. If it squicks you, just ignore it. Aaaand blatant mention of Prowl/Jazz. Yeah, I ship them. Deal with it. :P)

"... he couldn't even _say_ it! After all the trouble I went to set him up..."

Air Raid finally had enough and chucked his cube at Sideswipe, but the laughing mech just batted it aside with a powerful forearm, then went back to describing all the juicy details of his failure to Slingshot and Fireflight. "... I mean, I practically _dragged_ him in front of Optimus and Prowl. If you want to cause trouble, that's a golden opportunity moment right there. And it's not something I'd do for just anybody, but seeing as how I respect Air Raid and all-- or at least I _did_," he added with an evil snigger at the F-15.

Air Raid sulked and sat back with his arms crossed while Slingshot joined in the chuckling. Fireflight didn't seem to be too interested, staring into the vague distance while Sideswipe was speaking and uttering a soft "huh" at the laughter. "Wasn't supposed to be a dare anyway," he murmured distantly to himself, but no one was paying attention.

Except Slingshot, who promptly reached over and smacked him across the back of the head. "Quiet, Flight! Don't ruin Air Raid's moment of shame!"

The red jet gave him a reproachful look. "Quit acting like a jerk, Sling."

"ME? First he messes up the dare and then he comes back and _lies_ to us about it? I'm just trying to set the record straight!" Slingshot protested.

"Yeah, someone has to propagate truth and honesty among you impressionable young mechs," Sideswipe scolded. "My intentions are noble, here! Prime would be proud."

"Oh, he would not," Prowl intoned drily from where he sat nursing his own, small (low-grade) cube of energon. "As for honesty, you have already exaggerated or omitted several details of consequence from the story. You've given no more accurate an account of the events than Air Raid has."

If Sideswipe had a tongue, he would've stuck it out at him. As it was, he gave the black-and-white a thoroughly irritated look at his over-literalness. "It's called _dramatic presentation_, Prowl! Reality is boring -- you're walking proof of that. I'm just trying to spice it up a little."

"Told you he was lying," said Air Raid. Slingshot looked unconvinced.

"So what _did_ happen? Did he really run down the hall screaming like a little girl?" he demanded directly of Prowl.

The seemingly stoic mech's lip component twitched -- almost imperceptibly, or it might have been a trick of Slingshot's optic -- but he took the question in stride. "Running, yes. Screaming, no. 'Hysterical giggling' would be a more apt description."

Air Raid's mouth fell open. "I didn't-- I wasn't-- I was _not_ hysterical!" he squeaked in outrage. Slingshot burst out laughing again. Even Fireflight smiled, then started giggling himself at the look on Air Raid's face. In a matter of moments both were holding onto their chairs, fighting for control.

Prowl gave Sideswipe what he could've sworn was a smug look -- as dry as a dust basin in Nevada, of course. "_They_ seem to find reality amusing."

Sideswipe gave the jets a sour look. "They find just about anything amusing, really." He gave a kick to Slingshot's chair for emphasis; the Harrier continued laughing, probably just to spite him. "So this proves nothing."

"Except that you are a poor loser."

The red mech glared at him, then shrugged nonchalantly and tipped back his cube, giving every intention of being bored with the argument anyway. "So what're you doing here, Mr. Funtime? Drinking with a bunch of delinquents, participating in pointless conversation... you're not going to the dark side, are you?" The accompanying wink made the question sound flirtatious.

Prowl was more than used to Sideswipe hitting on him, as well as most of the other mechs in the Ark, on a random basis. He ignored the innuendo. "Hardly. My shift is over and I have nothing more important to do than monitoring our most prevalent troublemaker. A valuable service to the entire Ark, I might add."

The troublemaker smirked. "_Now_ who's stretching the truth? You're just sitting here because you like my company. I'm irresistible, admit it."

"You seem to be channeling your brother. I just want to be where I can keep an eye on you in case trouble arises."

"Is that why you spend so much time with Jazz?" Sideswipe leaned over, intruding on Prowl's personal space deliberately, lewd curiosity all over his face. The Aerialbots by now had stopped laughing and were following this exchange with the eagerness of spectators at a cockfight.

This time it looked like Sideswipe had scored. Prowl was momentarily fazed. "What does Jazz have to do with--"

"He must make a lot of trouble if he requires so much _monitoring_ from you. Always on your off hours, too." Everyone in the Ark knew about Jazz and Prowl from within an hour of setting foot on Earth, but it was one thing to know it and another to talk about it. Prowl usually wasn't very vocal on the subject. They did their best to keep it discrete, not hidden, but enough so that it wouldn't affect their work or their level of respect in the eyes of the lower ranks. Public displays (or declarations) of affection, Prowl was _not_ prone to. Sideswipe was bringing it up just to see how he'd react when approached about it on such a tactless level.

True to form, the tactician recovered quickly. "Indeed, he is far more adept at causing trouble than anyone I know -- even _you_, Sideswipe." His expression actually softened for a second, a bit of fondness creeping into his voice, subtle enough to easily miss. "He is simply far better at not getting caught."

"Owned," Slingshot remarked before Sideswipe could retaliate.

Sideswipe didn't waver, his leering grin remaining. "So what happens when you _do_ catch him, Prowlie-bot? Do tell."

Instead, the tactician glanced over Sideswipe's shoulder at someone entering the lounge. He smiled, unmistakably this time. "You should ask Jazz sometime. I'm sure he could indulge you with juicy details, though they might not be sordid enough to match your imagination. But I'm afraid you would find my account too _boring_." He stood. "And it will have to wait, in any case, since Jazz is going to be _very_ busy tonight."

With that he left the table and walked up to Jazz, who had just arrived. Jazz seemed a little puzzled by the bold approach in public, but if the way his face lit up was any indication, he wasn't about to complain. Prowl took his hand and said something to him they couldn't catch, and Jazz grinned almost audio-to-audio, clapped an arm around his shoulder, and headed out of the lounge with him.

The Aerialbots looked at each other with knowing grins. Sideswipe gaped after them, then scowled and threw his near-empty cube across the table. "Primus _dammit!_ That fragger!"

Seeing the Aerialbots' curious stares in his direction, he grumbled, "Sunny's still in recharge. He'll be out for awhile according to Ratchet. Slagging _Prowl_ knows I'm alone tonight, and he goes and rubs my face in it!" He saluted the departed pair with one of his favorite human gestures. "I hope they hurt themselves and get chewed out by Ratchet! Better still, hope Prowl misses his shift tomorrow. That'll torque him off."

"What's the matter, Swipe?" Air Raid chuckled. "Don't you have a one-night stand or five lined up in case this happens? I thought you were Mr. Smooth."

"Mirage is patrolling and won't be back till late, Bluestreak is in Hound's room and I doubt they'd forgive the interruption, Perceptor's on some super-important project for Prime and I'm not to disturb him, and Bumblebee isn't happy with me lately on account of what happened with Cliffjumper last week," Sideswipe replied, all without missing a beat. He missed the incredulous stares for a moment, being too absorbed in brooding.

"_Bumblebee_?" Slingshot finally squeaked.

Fireflight tried to get the image of Sideswipe and Perceptor to fit in his processor, and got an error message. He shook his head. "I thought Perceptor was married to his work or something."

Sideswipe shrugged. "He's a scientist. He likes to try new things. So do I."

That caused a thoughtful expression to appear on Air Raid's face. It was quickly hidden, but Sideswipe caught it, as he had an eye for opportunities, and suddenly he was leaning over the table with the same lewd smirk he'd shown to Prowl a moment before. "Come to think of it," he murmured in a suggestive tone, "I've never been with a _Combiner_ before. Been a long time since I've felt a jet's turbines, either."

"Oh, PLEASE!" Slingshot's contempt carried clear across the lounge before he even thought to lower his voice. "First of all," he continued in a hiss, "we're not freaking pleasure-bots. I don't care what the rumors around here say, but just because we've got no boundaries with each other doesn't mean we spend all our time glomping or run around looking for just anybody to fall into a berth with. Second of all, we're not interested in ground-pounders..."

Sideswipe glanced at Air Raid, ignoring Slingshot entirely. The F-15 grinned. The Lamborghini grinned back. Then Air Raid leaned back in his seat. "Our room or yours?" he asked calmly.

Cut off mid-tirade, Slingshot stared at his teammate in shock. "Wait -- _What?_"

Sideswipe just grinned. "Have to be yours, unless you know a better place. The Big Bad Sunflower's pretty territorial. Wouldn't want anybody to get hurt."

"Works for me. Flight, you coming along?"

Slingshot tried to break in again. "Now just a--"

"Sure," said Fireflight, his interest piqued. Air Raid usually led them to fun things, or at least he thought so. And Fireflight was as curious as any of them about what a sports car's frame would feel like. Were headlights as sensitive as they looked...? "I mean, if Sideswipe doesn't mind."

"You kidding? I'm used to threesies. The more of you guys jump in, the better."

"STOP!" Slingshot finally shouted. "Just stop it, guys, okay? There is no _way_ this is happening in our quarters. That's restricted team space! If you're going to do something perverted with one of the four-wheels, go out in the middle of the desert or something."

"And risk getting interrupted by Decepticons?" Air Raid snorted. "Come on, it's not like Silverbolt'll mind. He's brought Hot Spot back twice when we weren't there."

"He _what?_ ... Never mind! That's not the point!"

"No, the point of this is some good groping. Why, don't you want any? Don't tell me you're scared."

Slingshot sputtered into silence. Sideswipe took the opportunity to goad him. "It's okay if _he_ doesn't want to. A Harrier's not much of a jet anyway. Too bad, 'cause I bet I could teach all you flyboys a thing or two..."

The copper-headed Harrier looked up at him with an unreadable expression on his visor. One could almost see his pride battling itself, torn between proving his prowess and keeping up the charade that no non-flying Transformer was good enough for him. Finally he folded his arms. "Huh. Right, sure. Is that supposed to be a challenge, Hot Wheels?"

The Lambo twin leaned in and smirked. "I _dare_ you, Coppertop."

"Oooooh," chorused the other two.

"Oh, you slagheads shut up." Slingshot looked from them to Sideswipe again. "Fine -- You want a jet-pile? I'll show you a jet-pile. You'll be off-duty for days after I'm done with you!" He marched for the lounge door, gesturing imperiously at his teammates. "Raid, Flight, let's take this heap of spare parts back to our place. About time _somebody_ found a use for his lazy no-flying aft anyway."

Sideswipe sighed wistfully. "Don't tell him this," he said to the other two, "but I really like that guy. All that anger and ego, it's almost like he's got a little Sunstreaker sitting on his shoulder... Wait up, Sweet Wings!" he called in an annoying falsetto as he jogged after Slingshot, the other Aerialbots following amid helpless giggles.

- - - - -

I know you're all going to demand smut after this. I just know it. Arrgh, why do I do this to myself...

Anyway, a note on monogamy. 'Bots aren't strict on monogamy in my fics. It's simply not practical. I don't even know that it works for humans all that well, let alone robots for whom intimacy has all sorts of definitions. So, according to me, their society has no taboos on multiple relationships or partners or casual one-night stands. Even 'bots who are bonded or otherwise paired up might have fun on the side, and it's not considered "cheating." They don't view relationships like we do and have no word for adultery. They're also a lot more open about discussing such matters in general (though most aren't as blatant about it as Sideswipe here). So don't expect them to always act "human" when it comes to partnerships. If you do, you'll be shocked by the Twins on a regular basis. :P

Now for review replies, which will make this chapter even longer than it already is!

**dytabytes**: I love hearing that I've hooked a new convert. Sadly, there's not a lot of Aerialbot ficcy-ness out there, and none of it is as cute as my lil' fliers. I started writing these precisely to fill the need for cuddly and funny Aerialbot-centric stories, and I have. Enjoy them, maybe the'll inspire others to do the same. Maybe even you...? ?

**Dragowolf**: In case you haven't noticed, my updates are taking longer and longer, and I don't have schoolwork as an excuse. So I'm not exactly going to get on your case. Glad you're enjoying both fics.

**The Plushi**: Ooh, another convert! Heart them good! They love it, the little flying egoists. (And if I slip and call them "Eggoists" they'll start with that damn Toaster song again... )

**Xy Zero**: I was tempted to villainize them, but decided against it. Ironhide still irks me, but that's why he gets pwned every now and again.

**OblivionDragon**: It doesn't work so well in real life. Except possibly with siblings. But I grew up in a pretty wimpy family anyway... You're welcome!

**Friend of Leo**: Oy, that's a toughie. I don't want to kill anyone. But I could possibly make an AU chapter for that. It would be an interesting challenge to write.

My other friends -- **Elariel, blood shifter**, **DMH1973**, **CasusFere**, **pax-athena**, **flamingmarsh**, **Artemis-chan of Redwing**, **Crimson Starlight**, **Veg1ma**, and **Lady Ohina** -- you are all absolutely AWESOME and I wouldn't find this worth continuing without you. Please, keep up the fine reviewing! In fact, if you want, you can tell the Aerials directly what you think of them! They'd love a chance to answer their own fanmail. They've been bugging me to let them do it for the last several chapters now, and I admit I'm starting to crack. They're the ones that really deserve the adoration, anyway -- I just write what they tell me they're doing.


	17. in which TC is a smooth bastard

17. In which Thundercracker is a smooth bastard (Follow-up to Chapter 10)

(Warnings for... arousal? Nothing graphic. Or even blatantly sexual.)

_Basic programming of any sentient creature regardless of composition -- carbon, silicon, or metal alloy -- includes the imperatives to avoid painful sensations and seek pleasant ones. Faced with direct stimulus of pain or pleasure, the response is instinctive, even in the most highly evolved organism, and can be very difficult to override. Assuming one even wants to try._

The scream of wind shearing over streamlined surfaces and the roar as it buffeted the two planes would have been deafening to human ears even in the thin upper atmosphere. Skydive's external audio sensors were completely switched off, only radar and visual sensors alerting him to the location of his target. Nonetheless, when Thundercracker passed close by on his left, causing a tug in the air that had shaped itself around his swift-moving form, his entire frame shook with the vibration.

_Damn, he's close_. The Aerialbot banked as he tried to put himself behind the tailfins of the Decepticon jet, in a good position to take a shot. Thundercracker however wasn't having any of it. As soon as Skydive began to line up on him, the Seeker abruptly pulled up, stalled and went into a downward spiral. It looked uncontrolled until he rolled out of it several hundred feet down from his previous position, shaking off with contemptuous ease gravitational and acceleration forces that would've torn a man-made plane apart. Even as his combat programming focused on recovering the target, Skydive felt an electric thrill at seeing such a display of mastery in the air.

_He's good, too_. Starscream was the Seeker best known for his hotshot flying, but Thundercracker was no slouch, and seemed to be in rare form today. One didn't become a member of Megatron's chosen elite in the skies through mediocre flying skills, that was for sure. His maneuvers would do most of the Aerialbots proud.

Of course, Skydive was considered the best among his squad when it came to maneuvering. He wasn't about to be bested.

Thundercracker was now heading in a different direction, so Skydive pulled himself into a long downward loop to follow. It took all his concentration to turn in as small a radius as possible while simultaneously bleeding altitude and not losing control as the wind became an almost solid force against his armor. It was a quiet thrill, one he could easily get lost in. It was more about _feeling_ than thinking, really. Internal calculations could only do so much, and a lot of it was split-second impulse: acting instantaneously on the slightest message from his sensors, making tiny adjustments to flaps and rudders according to the changing whims of the air currents, without even his high-speed processor having time to think about it. Nearly all his attention was diverted to his sensors, aware of every inch of his surface, every change in the pressure of air against his wings and fuselage and the slightest rise or fall of his nosecone.

By the time he completed the loop and leveled out behind Thundercracker again, he was almost dizzy from the rush.

"Not bad." The Seeker's voice over his internal radio held genuine admiration, though tinged with the condescension he showed to all Autobots. Normally all the two sides exchanged verbally during a skirmish were insults and taunts. Obviously the rules of engagement, never set in stone to begin with, had been re-written by Thundercracker for this little occasion. Though what he thought to gain by complimenting his enemy, Skydive could only guess...

"Not bad yourself," he returned, deciding to play Thundercracker's game for now. He twisted and rolled to match as the Seeker began dodging teasingly from side to side -- not so much trying to escape Skydive, it seemed, as to coax him to follow. "Most Decepticons would have fired by now, though," he observed.

Thundercracker scoffed verbally. "Where's the fun in that? Any idiot can hit something with a missile. But it takes real skill to get _close_."

With a roar, the Decepticon peeled off into a long upward loop, wingflaps twitching furiously to compensate for the forces he was fighting against. Skydive felt another thrill, stronger this time, causing all his internals to shudder and sending random electrical currents throughout his system as his body revved up to follow. He did so almost without thinking, pulling into the loop behind Thundercracker, trying to trace his exact path through the sky, guided only by instinct and memory and the steel-blue wings of the jet ahead of him glinting against a borderless background of vibrant cerulean. The thin upper atmosphere streamed over his alloyed skin and caressed his wings roughly, while the shadeless sun blazed on metal and set off thermal sensors, so that one half of his body felt on fire and the other half icy cool. The conflicting sensations overlapped with stress vibrations and set him on high nerve, quivering from nosecone to tailfin and all but ready to explode during the apex of the maneuver.

The rush was delicious.

"Still want to dance, Aerialbot?" Thundercracker's voice sounded giddy and strained, as if battling the elements gave him the same high it did Skydive. Instead of completing the loop he'd started and leveling out, he went into a dive.

Excited beyond all sense or caution, Skydive bit into the challenge. "Oh _yeah_."

He plunged after, streamlined shape slicing through wisps of cloud -- flickers of cool vapor against skin growing warm from friction -- and boring through the sky after Thundercracker. He was no longer chasing to kill, he didn't even think of shooting and the possibility that he might suddenly get nailed with a missile himself barely entered his consciousness. Skydive, the aerial strategist, master of maneuvering and fighting tactics, and fully trained Autobot warrior, had forgotten the war entirely for a moment -- all that mattered was wind and wings and heat and cold, and the way Thundercracker's vivid red wingbands stood out against metallic blue as he flashed in the sunlight, graceful, confident, suspended on nothing, rushing to meet gravity without a trace of fear...

Then he pulled off, laughing over the radio as if mocking gravity while he shook off its shackles, the shackles with which all non-flying creatures were inextricably bound. And Skydive laughed too as he peeled off, feeling for himself the heady power that gave Thundercracker the arrogance to lord over everything on the ground, over everyone who stood both physically and ideologically beneath him; the arrogance that made him a Seeker. It was in all of them, in their programming, Skydive reflected, whether they accepted it or not; flying was a gift and a privelege which he and the Seeker shared and which separated them even from others of their own faction.

It was strange, but in that instant as they both leveled out, now only meters apart, he felt a kinship with the Decepticon that went beyond war or politics. _Birds of a feather flock together_... the human phrase seemed so curiously apt.

Thundercracker slowed just a hair, enough to drift closer to Skydive as the Aerialbot pulled up on him. It wasn't a combat move for damn sure. Skydive had a sure shot at him already, and at this range he could've rammed his nosecone straight up Thundercracker's afterburners if he really wanted to. But he wasn't attacking, nor was the Seeker luring him into a trap. The Aerialbot knew this. He also knew it wouldn't last, so he took the opportunity to sidle up close, as close as he could without scraping their wings at this delicate altitude, enough to feel Thundercracker's slipstream as a gentle pressure along his flank.

The blue jet suddenly pulled up and over, yawing into Skydive's path, and a jet of hot exhaust bloomed over the Aerialbot's dorsal surfaces. It was almost hot enough to be uncomfortable, but not quite, and he adjusted his pitch a couple degrees to let it wash over the sensitive array lining his nosecone. Suddenly he felt a deep shudder through his entire frame, a rumbling vibration that shook him to the core and drove his sensors crazy as circuits clicked rapidly open and closed. Skydive had just enough time to wonder what in Primus _that_ had been, when another, stronger vibration washed over him. This time he recognized it as coming from Thundercracker. The blue Seeker had a reputation for generating sonic booms as a weapon and a distraction, but Skydive had never conceived of him using it in such a subtle way, and with such fine control. The second tremor left him feeling so weak that if physical exertion had been what was keeping him aloft, he surely would have crashed.

"Is this some new trick of yours?" he asked over the comm, alarmed by how unsteady his voice sounded. Even more alarmed by the fact that part of him hoped Thundercracker would do it again.

"If I wanted to kill you, I could." The Seeker throttled back slightly so that he was right above Skydive, then lowered himself down until the air displacement caused by his mass was pressing down on the Aerialbot like a great stroking hand. "Just want to thank you for that 'distraction technique' you showed us last week."

"That... Oh." _That_. "So this is... revenge?"

"If you want to call it that." Three low blasts, in rapid succession, tumbled over Skydive in waves that broke right _through_ him as if he were made of smoke. He moaned, internals sparking and sensors crackling in a wild dance. When they finally settled down he was tingling, buzzing all over like a live wire, and the touch of the very air was enough to nearly drive him crazy. He resisted the insane urge to transform to robot mode and try to grab Thundercracker bodily; it wouldn't work so well with the Seeker hovering above him, just out of reach. If he moved any closer now, they'd collide. He couldn't do anything except beg.

_"More."_ It was a single word, but with it went all his pride. Thundercracker would brag about this later, and rightly he should. Somehow the Aerialbot didn't care.

"Ask me nicely." The smug satisfaction in his voice should have irritated the hell out of him. Instead he shivered at the almost purring tone in which it was conveyed.

"P-Please, Thundercracker..." _Please, don't ever tell Slingshot about this, ever._

"Very well." A throbbing pulse from the Seeker's engines, building up into a vibration that rattled loose every wire in Skydive's body, and finally into a blast of pure sonic force that would have knocked out his audios had they been switched on. At close quarters it struck the Aerialbot like a wall and conveyed the force through every atom of his body. Over-stimulated sensors went into overload all at once, safety buffers failing under the sudden surge of raw sensation, too intense to be called either pleasure or pain. Skydive experienced a brief, searing moment of _awareness_ -- he could see in his mind his entire frame outlined and X-rayed and mapped out by electricity -- then a blissful, senseless _nothing_, a blank ecstacy in which the only sound was the fading echo of his own orgasmic cry.

When he regained his senses and some control over his systems, he noted with a dazed, vague alarm that he had lost several thousand feet of altitude. Fortunately that still left him with plenty of time to avoid hitting the ground. For a few seconds he struggled, weakened by the overload and subsequent reboot, against the momentum that kept him tumbling. Finally he righted himself and managed to resume a level, if shaky flight path parallel to the ground.

Far overhead, he heard the roar of Seeker engines. Thundercracker's silhouette was just visible as he passed overhead, going back to rendezvous with his wingmate, who had apparently been teasing Slingshot some distance away. Skywarp too had broken off, and Slingshot was circling around at a wary distance to head in Skydive's direction.

Like most skirmishes that sprang up when Autobot and Decepticon encountered each other on patrol routes, this one had ended without injuries. Not even Decepticons wanted to engage in a life-or-death struggle unless they were specifically ordered to, and as long as both groups headed back to their own base, there was no need. Still, it was considered almost polite for Aerialbots and Seekers to dogfight a little if they met up at random. It kept things interesting... _very_ interesting, Skydive mused to himself. He only hoped his wingmate had been too busy with Skywarp to notice anything odd going on. Silverbolt would be livid.

_Engaging an enemy without firing, getting much closer than safety allowed, letting your guard down and giving him power over you, then experiencing a dangerous overload in mid-flight while surrounded by Decepticons._ Air Raid might pull a stunt like that once in a while, but Skydive knew better. At least that was what he had thought...

Thundercracker's voice interrupted his self-chiding. _"Was it good for you, Autobot?"_

He focused his optics once more on the distant twinkling blue speck high above. Then smirked inwardly. "Worth it," he told himself. "Definitely worth it."

- - - - -

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**: I may be moving this up to a Mature rating in the near future, if later chapters are going to get even more questionable. So if it suddenly disappears from the browser, just select the "All Ratings" option and you should see it again. Also remember, you can now send questions, comments and fan mail to the Aerialbots themselves. They've promised they will answer. I guess you can trust them.

**Artemis-chan of Redwing**: Hug them if you want to, as long as you have plenty of hugs to go around. They're greedy little buggers.

**Khareesa**: I... don't know... you know, I don't think we have any Autobots good enough to play an angel. (Though Fireflight would make an adorable shoulder cherub.)

**flamingmarsh**: No need to apologize. I love caffeine, too, but it gets me out of control.

**VAwitch**: Sometimes Bolt just needs a few quiet moments with someone outside his team. Hot Spot is a good choice, since they can sympathize on a lot of things, and Hot Spot is more daring than Silverbolt so he talks him into things Bolt normally wouldn't try, and gets him to have fun in the process. That's the image that popped into my head when I wrote it, anyway.

**One-Shot Yaoi Shipper**: I can't tell you how _firm_ my beliefs are regarding smut... snerks Sorry, bad joke. Unfortunately my mind _lives_ in the gutter, there's nothing I can do about it except make the best of it by writing drabbles like these!

**tomorrow4eva**: I don't find it unbelievable at all. They are thinking, feeling robots, after all -- they can experience pain, both physical and mental, so why not pleasure? That's what makes them _sentient_ machines, as opposed to just machines. Keep in mind they were built by something much more powerful and advanced than we (unlike biological organisms, they couldn't possibly have come into being without some intelligent force behind them), and we don't know what its motives were. I'm a sucker for realism, and if I couldn't justify robo-smut to myself, I wouldn't write it. As it is, it bears only the vaguest resemblance to anything sexual humans do, and I only call it smut because it makes readers salivate and prevents me from having to come up with boring technical terms for it.

(Oh, and their taste/smell combined is basically a mass spectrometer that analyzes the chemical composition of solids, liquids and gases. It's useful for sampling raw fuel sources that may or may not be dangerous to consume. If nothing else. shrug)

Also to **blood shifter**, **StormSailor**, **cmdrtekk**, **Bluebird Soaring**, **Silveriss**, **Veg1ma**, **pax-athena**, and **DMH1973** -- thanks for reviewing so quickly, guys! 14 reviews in 16 hours, w00t! I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter so much, and you're definitely welcome.


	18. in which Slingshot dreams of better

18. In which Slingshot dreams of better

(Set on Cybertron, before the current War. Warnings for swearing and implications of abuse.)

Slingshot looked up sharply as the Seeker squadron roared overhead. They seemed impossibly huge, tons of delicate metal defying gravity with what seemed like no effort at all. Their sleek silhouettes were composed of perfect planes and angles intersecting as aerodynamically as possible, with no gaps or snags to interfere with wind flow. They blasted by incredibly fast, but their image remained burned into Slingshot's optics in exquisite detail, and he stood looking longingly after them.

"What're you gapin' at? Those crates aren't gonna load themselves!"

A rough voice interrupted his daydreaming, and a whack on the head brought his mind sharply back down to ground level. Rubbing his helm, he glared resentfully at his mentor, Shortstop.

"I'm gettin' to it, alright? Gimme a break!"

"I'll break somethin' all right, if you don't watch your mouth," the older mech retorted, looming over his apprentice by perhaps a foot or two. "We're don't get paid for standin' around. Get back to work."

"I _said_ I'm gettin'!" Slingshot spat and walked off before any unwise comments could escape him. Shortstop resembled nothing so much as a scaled-up Minibot, and he often had to refrain from saying that to his face. Considering his mentor was prejudiced as hell -- against Minis, fliers, 'bots from the offworld colonies, war models, and just about everyone else that wasn't like him -- that probably wouldn't be a wise thing to do. He was short, but he had an equally short temper and packed a whallop Slingshot had long since learned to respect. Grumbling under his breath instead, he resumed loading the crates with angry, jerking motions.

Unbidden, his thoughts gradually, inexorably drifted back to the Seekers. Even as he worked, as he stumbled, dropped something, cursed, and hurried to gather it back up before Shortstop noticed, he kept seeing their angled bodies flashing over the rooftops. That had to be the most awesome feeling of freedom any mech could know. What it'd be like to escape these streets, the dreary maze of endless warehouses that made up the docking sector, where countless unremarkable ground-bound mechs worked and toiled their whole lives with no point and no purpose, no glory, not a glimmer of excitement until their sparks finally quit... Who could look up at those jets and not feel just sick with envy? They represented everything that these grunts didn't have. Most of them never would.

_But not him_. Someday he, Slingshot, would find a way to get out of here.

Thoughtfully he traced a digit over the address on the crate he'd dropped (hopefully he could blame the dents on carelessness during the flight, that happened often enough that Shortstop bitched about it), and allowed himself to entertain the notion of flying all over Cybertron, visiting places he was only familiar with from pictures. There were literally worlds -- _galaxies!_ -- of things to do out there, but guys like Shortstop would never see that. The ugly mug's biggest goal in life was to earn himself a cut of the smuggling business that thrived in the sector -- _real_ money, he always said, guzzling cheap "heavy" energon until he passed out, babbling all the while about what it would be like for him when he "got in."

Hell, even Slingshot had a better grip on reality than that. Shortstop was too near-sighted and stupid to ever do more than look the other way for a small sum while the occasional shipment was "lost." He was no smooth criminal, and if he kept trying to nose his way into the business, it would probably cost him a lot more than just money. The smuggling rings took their work very seriously. Slingshot just hoped he was out of town by the time his mentor finally pissed off the wrong people.

Fortunately, when the guy was drunk (as he was at the end of nearly every work day), he couldn't even see straight, let alone keep track of his finances. Slingshot had managed to "appropriate" a little of almost every bribe he'd taken, and added it to the small amount he continuously saved back for himself out of their meager earnings. One of these days -- he couldn't say for sure when, since their income was erratic at best -- he would have enough to pay for flight school.

It wouldn't matter that he wasn't a jet. Thanks to the shortage of non-military flying models, several cities were willing to pay for the reformatting process to anyone who showed ability in the air, provided they passed all the required written tests and signed on for several years of training. Slingshot knew the written tests by heart. He'd downloaded them and spent hours studying them during his off cycles when he was supposed to be in recharge. Shortstop didn't know, of course, not that he could've stopped him. Slingshot wasn't going to allow anybody to take his future away from him. He was about fed up with being told what to do and what he had to be. To the Pit with it! He was going to leave as soon as he had the money. He'd decided that ages ago. Frag this, all of it.

Soothed by the defiant thoughts, he managed to resign himself to another dull meaningless day... for now. He finished up the load and was just on his way to find Shortstop (probably rummaging through a "damaged" crate for anything he thought wouldn't be missed), when the Seekers roared by in the opposite direction.

"Slag them to the bowels of Primus," Shortstop growled, jerking his arm hastily out of the goods he was plundering. "Do they have to blast through here every five minutes? Some of us are trying to work!"

Slingshot smirked, not caring if it earned him another cuff on the head. He glanced up at the Seekers as they sped away and this time, the envy and longing on his face was tinged with something else. Something secret.

_See you in the air one day, guys._

- - - - -

**GASP!** That's right, he wasn't originally built a jet!

So now you know his secret. Nobody outside the Aerialbots knows where he comes from or how his background has influenced the mech we know today, so that's probably part of the reason they're so understanding with him. Sadly, getting wings didn't get rid of his inadequacy issues. He's still the slowest Autobot jet, after all, and nowhere near as capable in the air as the Seekers or even most of his teammates (even Fireflight can at least break the sound barrier). But he's learned a long time ago to cover up those feelings of insecurity with a punk-aft attitude.

Anyway, I know that was short. I'm tired and decided not to try and turn this drabble into a novel. I can always make it a little longer... with reviewer replies! Here we go:

**Xobit**: Hey, no problem. I saw you had this on Story Alert and figured you were enjoying it. Glad to hear how much!

**Kaga**: It was probably just Skydive and Slingshot on patrol. If it's a routine thing, they don't always send the whole squad out. Ditto with the Seekers. Skywarp and Thundercracker are perfectly capable of flying without Starscream's supervision, though I doubt _he_ would agree on that.

**ajremix**: Arrogant Seekers are for the luv. I agree.

**blood shifter**: I'll have to be sure to give him another chapter or two then. Sorry about the long wait.

**cmdrtekk**: You're welcome! And thank _you_ for the kind review!

**flamingmarsh**: My family ignores me anyway. It's kind of hard to ignore the heart palpitations, though. Glad you're having fun reading these.

**Veg1ma**: This'll make a really embarrassing story when the others find out. No secrets can be kept from Superion, alas.

**DMH1973**: Considering how I labored over some of those descriptions, I'm very grateful to hear they were appreciated. Thanks!

**Bluebird Soaring** and **Hellsfirescythe**: Obviously his weapon isn't an actual sonic boom, like what any Seeker can make by breaking the sound barrier. But whatever he uses to "bring the thunder," I figure he's got some control over it. So since I don't understand the logic behind "energy fields" (a popular fan standby that doesn't seem to have a scientific basis), I invented my own method for midair jet-mode stimulation.

Glad you all love the Aerialbots! Collide update also coming soon!


	19. in which Sunstreaker is helpful

19. In which Sunstreaker is helpful

"What're you up to, Aerial dude?"

Fireflight turned his head in surprise; he'd actually forgotten Beachcomber was sitting next to him. The Minibot came down almost every day to watch the sun set from this particular point, and over the last week or so Fireflight had taken to sitting with him. They seldom spoke much, it being an experience they could share without words, neither feeling the need to distract from the moment. Yet today Fireflight had brought something new -- a canvas of sorts, which he had propped across his folded legs, and several daubs of paint. Nearly twenty minutes after he had taken his seat, Beachcomber finally elected to notice him.

Either that, or he'd spent the last twenty minutes waiting patiently for Fireflight to speak. That sounded like him.

"Mmm? Oh... I just thought I'd try something." The Aerialbot stared fixedly for a moment at the horizon, not wanting to admit that he'd been dabbling with paints for a while now and had been too shy to share the results. This was the first time he'd be attempting art in company. Well, Beachcomber at least shouldn't mind. "I have a feeling this is gonna be a really nice one, so I brought something to record it with."

The Minibot nodded smoothly. "Good move. Better than a camera, if you really want to catch the moment. Not just what it looks like, but how it makes you feel." After a moment of thoughtful silence, he added, "Those are some groovy colors."

"Um, thanks." They _were_ quality paints, smooth and bright, but malleable enough to spread evenly for mixing. What he didn't say was that the only Autobot who had paint that good on hand, and lots of it, was Sunstreaker. No one knew why -- he certainly didn't need so many colors of it, but rumor had it he'd been an artist of some sort on Cybertron (when he wasn't fighting in the gladiator pits), and still practiced in secret from time to time. Thus far, the only effects of it the Autobots had seen were when Sideswipe occasionally "liberated" some of his brother's stash ("You hardly ever use it anyway! Get off me!") for use in his numerous pranks.

Borrowing from his example, Fireflight had managed to swipe a teeny amount -- just a daub of each, but the colors were so rich it should be more than enough if he spread it out with a little water -- while it was the Twins' turn for their quarters to be cleaned and inspected. (Everyone had to submit to the process a couple times a year, more so in their case.) He was quite sure Sunstreaker wouldn't notice, and if he did, there was nothing to trace it back to Fireflight.

Unless, of course, he came along and caught him now... but the Aerialbot was not the sort to worry about what might happen. He was much like Air Raid in that respect.

There was a shift in the light, drawing his attention back to the waterline. The low-slanting light began to "melt" into the calm blue ocean as the sun sank, almost imperceptibly slow, even to Autobot optics. Fireflight, who had the patience to watch paint dry if it did so in a particularly interesting way, followed its progress raptly. The sky around the fiery ball grew flushed, as if with excitement or anticipation; the few scattered clouds darkened abruptly as they were backlit, with fingers of watered sunlight streaming through their dark silhouettes. Fireflight drank it all in, absorbing every detail, every shade and hue.

When the mix of colors was just right and the light was at its most magical, Fireflight's hand, almost of its own accord, began to paint, his optics hardly venturing from the sunset.

It was an instantaneous process, transferring what he saw directly to the paper. He'd learned after much trial and error that it was no good trying to measure it out and concentrate on making it all line up -- that would trip him up. Capturing an image wasn't like drawing a diagram. You had to let your processor hold the image while you looked down at the paper, then trace it as you saw it in your head, a little bit carelessly, at the risk of making a mistake or putting a dab of paint in the wrong place. Mistakes didn't matter, because you only had a minute to capture the whole vast scene before your optics, and it had to be done as if it were no effort at all, as if seeing and painting were the same thing... and if you did it just right, the image would transfer like magic, as surely as a snapshot. Only all the more amazing, because no automated process had done the trick in this case.

Absorbed completely in the mysterious, impossible process called creation, Fireflight was no longer aware of his audience. Beachcomber watched his hands move with rapt attention, scarcely paying attention to the real sunset. Colors and shadows and clouds began to appear, first by themselves and then joining together to make a whole picture. Every so often Fireflight's brush would return to add a new layer of color or a shading of a different hue onto a piece of canvas he'd already touched, and it seemed to Beachcomber the colors were gradually getting darker. He was continuing to capture the sunset even while it progressed.

Eventually, after a few minutes of almost fierce concentration, Fireflight's pace began to slow. The colors in the sky had grown softer and more mellow now, a dusk setting over the hills and dunes behind them. Fireflight's wild composition of colors seemed to be completed, and now he was slowly, calmly dabbing a bit of black here and there to darken them up.

A soft clink of armor and crunching of sand came from behind them. Beachcomber looked up with a start. Towering against the dusk, his armor catching the fading sunset on every lushly enameled panel, Sunstreaker stood like a fiery angel of vengeance, glaring silently down on them.

Fireflight didn't even notice. Beachcomber did, and started to get to his feet. Not that there was anything he could do if the warrior decided to make trouble, but...

Sunstreaker gave him barely a glance, then held up his hand. So imperious was the gesture that one couldn't help but obey, even if (as in the case of Beachcomber) one was his elder by several millennia. The Minibot considered warning Fireflight, but in a moment that would probably be unnecessary. Like a tiger, the golden idol stalked down the dunes almost silently toward his prey.

Fireflight still didn't look up. His optics gazed in a dreaming daze at the setting sun, straying quick casual glances down to the canvas where his hands still lazily dabbed. Sunstreaker stood _right over him_ and the Aerialbot didn't seem to notice him.

The warrior opened his mouth... and slowly closed it. Beachcomber, watching him warily, ready to yell for help if need be, saw a slight shift in his posture. He didn't exactly relax, but his intent seemed to become less aggressive and more... intently inquisitive. Still catlike, he tilted his frilled head ever so slightly to one side, his cold blue optics not on Fireflight anymore, but on the canvas he held. The handsome, arrogant face was, as always, unreadable... but at least there was no obvious anger. He bent a little closer.

Some self-preservation instinct seemed to finally kick in, and Fireflight realized someone was standing over him. He looked up and froze, optics wide with the flat blank stare of a surprised bird that hasn't yet decided to flee.

Sunstreaker didn't meet his optics; his own were on the paper. Fireflight blinked and stuttered. His vocalizer didn't seem to work. He didn't dare move a circuit else, for fear that movement would be seen as an attempt to escape, and dealt with accordingly.

"I... uh..."

Ignoring him, Sunstreaker straightened. He gazed out at the sunset himself for a full thirty seconds. Then he looked down at the canvas again, tapping his chin with a finger -- a subconscious gesture so _human_, so devoid of malice, that Fireflight could hardly believe his optics. Was... was Sunstreaker actually...

A swift, sure movement as the warrior crouched, his finger jabbing at the canvas so suddenly that Fireflight jumped. It stopped, barely an inch from actually touching the still-damp surface. "That's what looks wrong. You're missing a hint of green, here. Throws off the light balance."

_That_ remark called for a blank stare and an slack-open mouth, which was exactly what it received. Fireflight's vocalizer started working again before his processor had gotten over the shock. "Bwuh?"

Sunstreaker affected a sigh, shaking his head. His manner seemed to say, even if he was superior to the other Autobot in every way, he was at least in the mood to try to overcome the other's shortcomings. "If you're going to skim off my paints, at least make the results worth it. My idiot brother wastes enough of my good stuff as it is."

That argument was so logical and reasoned that Fireflight managed to collect himself. "I... I looked for green," he said hesitantly, "but there wasn't any I could find."

"Hmm." The warrior stood. "Wait here. I know I've got the right shade somewhere. Doesn't look right without the green." He turned and began making his long-striding way over the dunes.

"Th-Thanks." Fireflight stared at the canvas, then called after him. "Wait! Is... is there anything else wrong with it?"

The warrior answered without looking back. "I didn't say anything else, did I?"

The twilight faded. Fireflight and Beachcomber stood in mutual astonishment on the darkening beach, as a chilly breeze ruffled up from over the water and teased their dermal sensors. Not a word was spoken for some time. At last, in a quiet, musing voice, the Aerialbot murmured, "I think he gave me a compliment."

Beachcomber just nodded in silent agreement. "I'm as dumbfounded as you, my flying friend."

The next time he tried to explain to someone the power of art and creativity as a communication tool, he would have to be sure to include this story. Even if he couldn't think of words to describe what had just occurred, even if no one would ever believe it, this kind of thing just had to be shared.

- - - - -

... I have no idea. Tell me what you thought, because I seriously have no clue where that came from.

**Reviewer Reply Corner**

**Bluebird Soaring**: He does. I keep telling everybody that. Well, technically Fireflight already hugged him, but he could always use another.

**Contian Mirian**: True, but being able to outmaneuver the enemy isn't much good unless you can keep up with them. He has an advantage evading them, true, but it's hard for him to get in a good attach position. Luckily his sharpshooting skills mostly make up for it. Still, try telling that to his low self-esteem when the others seem to be leaving him behind.

**blood shifter**: Ah, but the ground is so very far away.

**flamingmarsh**: It's okay, heart palps aren't really serious. I've had them my whole life, caffeine just makes 'em worse. They're just a little uncomfortable is all.

**Artemis-chan**: He needs the love all right. He's just not used to it, so he isn't very graceful about accepting it yet. Give him time. The Aerialbots have all the patience in the world when it comes to members of their group. They're all flawed, after all.

**Dragowolf**: This is just my take on it, anyway. And I agree a relationship outside the team would be good for him, but difficult. (We'll see.) Still, the attitude is pretty much a part of him regardless, he just wouldn't be such an all-out jerk if he wasn't covering up his insecurities. Glad you liked it. (Fireflight's okay as long as he's got a nice big wide open sky to fly in. Throw a building or a tree into his path and, well, it's a good thing he's the most durable Aerialbot.)

- Apologies on Collide, I know I'm taking forever to update. It's just that my brain kind of had a lock-up. I'm hoping this will loosen it up some. Thanks for the patience!


	20. in which Fireflight throws up

20. In which Fireflight throws up

_"We found him!"_

That simple transmission sent the three Aerialbots at the base into a literal dance of joy. They had to be physically restrained from hurling themselves into the sky and flying out to meet the returning search party halfway. The other Autobots understood their enthusiasm, but the last thing anyone wanted was for any more of their jets to get lost -- or shot down by an opportunistic Decepticon ambush. So reluctantly, instead, they waited with quivering impatience for Silverbolt and Skyfire to arrive with their missing teammate.

It was just past noon when the two large fliers touched down in the hangar, to be greeted at once by three smaller jets literally pouncing on them. Air Raid and Slingshot actually wrestled Fireflight from their leader's arms in their eagerness to squeeze and glomp him, clapping his back, scrubbing his helm with their knuckles and bombarding him with questions.

"Alright, enough. _Enough_, both of you!" Silverbolt waded in and began to pry them apart, worry and relief both evident in his unusually snappish voice. "He needs fuel, and he needs it now, or we'll be dragging him down to Ratchet for a transfusion. Make yourselves useful and fetch some cubes for your brother. I'll get him up to the common room -- no, the questions will have to wait. Get moving."

To their credit, both Air Raid and Slingshot bounded off to the errand with a remarkable degree of obedience, and were at the common room less than ten minutes later with arms full of energon cubes. Fireflight, who was on the verge of collapse, had literally been carried up by Silverbolt and set on his bunk. The Aerialbot leader didn't look so good himself -- he'd slumped into their biggest chair and was letting Skydive look after their bedraggled wingmate, on the F-16's insistence. Air Raid went straight to Fireflight and barely gave his leader a glance, but Slingshot spared a moment to frown at Silverbolt.

"You look about dead beat, boss. That cloud-chasing shuttle fly too fast for ya?"

Tired as he was, Silverbolt managed to crack a smile. "No, I kept up just fine -- he's used to pacing himself for smaller fliers, I guess. We'd been searching almost fourteen hours straight when we found him," he nodded at Fireflight, "flying out in the wrong direction and wobbling so bad he could barely stay in the air. Took me fifteen minutes to talk him down to the ground, and then we found out he was near stasis lock from energon depletion, reserve tanks run completely dry. I had to give him a fuel transfer -- took a lot out of me, and it was still just enough to get him home with. Skyfire offered to do it, but he was the one who had to carry Flight home, so..."

"So now you're both running low? Slag, Bolt, have a cube then." Slingshot handed him one; Silverbolt, accepting the gift along with the barely-concealed concern, mumbled thanks and began tossing it back.

"Geez, Flight, take it easy." Air Raid, meanwhile, was wrestling with the red jet, who was trying to down his own cube so fast it might have overflowed his holding tanks and backed up on him. The F-4 pushed him away with an uncharacteristic growl, turning to the wall and huddling up around the cube as if it were his most prized possession in the universe. Half-amused and half-worried, the others watched as he finished it, wiped his mouth, slurped the dripped energon off his fingers, and reached out in Air Raid's direction.

"More," he demanded, in a tone that suggested violence might result if his request wasn't granted. Air Raid gingerly handed him another cube, and nearly jumped as it was snatched from his hands. He didn't dare to offer advice on drinking slowly this time.

With growing astonishment, the rest of the Aerialbots watched Fireflight drink his way through the second cube almost as fast as the first one, and then start on a third, still too absorbed to pay them any attention. It was disconcerting, but at the same time fascinating, to see their teammate acting like a ravenous animal. And it was certainly understandable. When it came to basic needs like energy, pure instinct could override any being. The gentle, inquisitive daydreamer they all knew was still there, but he wasn't currently in charge of his actions. His internal computer was driving him to fill a need at whatever cost. It wasn't until the third cube was almost finished, that Fireflight finally looked up at them with some kind of recognition.

"Okay," he said faintly. "I think I'm done now." He set the near-empty cube down on the bunk with a slightly shaking hand. Skydive whisked it away, while Air Raid climbed up to sit beside him, putting an arm around his shoulders.

"How're you feeling, Flighty?"

"B-Better. I guess. O...Only..." He frowned in puzzlement and then suddenly lurched forward, emptying about a third of his over-filled holding tank. He might have lost the rest of it, too, but Silverbolt was suddenly on his feet, grabbing the red jet and pushing him into a sitting position, holding onto him tightly. Fireflight shuddered and gulped, burying his face in his leader's chest and clutching him as he fought the reflex down. After a moment the shaking seemed to subside. He went limp, and Silverbolt shifted so he was propping the smaller flier upright in his lap, then started rocking him gently.

"You'll be all right now. Just take it easy." He stroked Fireflight's helm and felt his teammate press into him. "Welcome home, kiddo."

The others gathered around. Skydive leaned against Silverbolt's shoulder, one hand trailing down to rest on Fireflight's knee. Air Raid climbed up on the bunk and wrapped both the red jet and his leader in as big a hug as he could manage, sandwiching Fireflight between two bodies -- much to the red jet's delight, if his happy murmur was any indication. Even Slingshot, stepping carefully over the mess on the floor, perched himself on the foot of the overcrowded bunk and reached around Air Raid to touch Fireflight's arm, to reassure himself that the team was whole again. Of course, he couldn't resist trying to ruin the moment. "Good thing Bolt called in when he did. Raid and I were just about to go through your stuff."

"Were not." Air Raid slid a foot along the bunk to try and shove him off it; Slingshot smacked it away irritably.

"Gee, guys, I wasn't even gone for a whole day," Fireflight mumbled drowsily.

"Well, it felt like one to us," Skydive said.

Silverbolt shifted his arm from where Air Raid was crushing it. "To be honest, I think we all started to go through Fireflight withdrawal."

"Definitely," Air Raid affirmed. He burrowed his head into his wingmate's neck. "Good thing there's a cure."

"Yeah, so let me get my fix already." Slingshot attempted to elbow past him. Air Raid shoved back, just as he was leaning across, causing him to lose his balance and fall off the berth -- straight into the puddle of energon.

"Why, you cross-wired spark of a--"

"Well, that's what you get for shoving!"

"If you get to be greedy, so do I!"

"Oh, go take a bath."

Skydive sighed, Silverbolt groaned tiredly, and Fireflight giggled. Oh, yes. Things were back to normal in the Aerialbots' world.

- - - - -

Oookay, so once again I've sort of deviated from the meme in this drabble. Oh, well. That one kind of just wandered around randomly and then came back home, and I decided not to ask where it's been. Hope somebody can make some sense out of it at least.

Well, last chapter was one of my most reviewed EVER. I'm going to write a follow-up to it next since so many seemed to like the interaction. Unfortunately, there's no way I can reply to all those reviews, so I'll just cover the ones that seem to demand an answer.

**staringsideways**: Misunderstood is one way to put it. I'll cover him more in a bit, and we'll get to see inside his head and what makes him so different from most of the others. If I pull it off right, anyways.

**blood shifter**: He's not much of a teacher, but he'll pass on what he can simply because the perfectionist in him doesn't want to see talent wasted. Also, if he's donating his paints, he'll want to coach the results.

**SisterDear**: I like Beachcomber a lot, but I don't have any plans for him right now. I knew he'd have to feature in a beach chapter, and I thought he'd have some fun interactions with Fireflight out of all the Aerials, so I strung this together and of course Sunny demanded to be part of it.

**Maraluch**: I'm jealous. I could be considered an artist, but I've never done much painting. I seem to lack the patience for it.

**PyroP-Dawg**: Sunny does do nice things, he just doesn't do them for the sake of being nice. He's always got his own reasons.

**tomorrow4eva**: Glad you liked the scene progression, I tried to write it just as I was picturing it. Actually, Sideswipe lifts paints from his brother because it's actually safer than stealing them from Ratchet's medbay -- well, at least for Sideswipe it is. Anybody else would probably be better off taking their chances with Ratchet. (My experiences with painting have been that it's not really more difficult than drawing or coloring with pencils, just a lot slower.)

**RachaelMNiner**: Thanks for going through and reviewing all the chapters! I'll send you a PM with replies to some of the other reviews. And yes, of course I'm an artist, I couldn't write from that point of view if I wasn't. I don't draw nearly as often as I used to and I'm rarely satisfied with my scribblings, but I get a lot of praise from friends, whatever that means. I just do pencil and pen instead of paint, it's less messy. Fireflight struck me as more of a painter though. Glomps back Nice to have your readership!

**Evermore Reality**: Here's one! And there's more coming. If I'd known he was going to be so much loved from the beginning, I might have just gone and done 28 Fireflights. Oh, well. I'll give him all the focus I can.

**Kittona**: Eh, most of my so-called "smut" is pure suggestive, and none of it equates to human sex. I don't do that robo-genitalia stuff a lot of people seem to draw and write. So, nothing squishy pops up in these drabbles, but you may see some... odd relationships. Plenty of funny though, don't worry.

**Tirya King**: W00t, I've got you now! I loved your Sunny/Sides background fic (or what started of it) and your work in general, and I'd hoped to catch your attention someday. You're the only writer who seems to have explored the extent to which the twins' upbringing is responsible for their behavior and harsh outlook on life. I plan to, because I'd pretty much concluded the same thing, but that fic helped inspire me. Hope you finish it someday.

To **Artemis-chan**, **Julielulie**, **Prime Revolver**, **Dragowolf**, **flamingmarsh**, **cmdrtekk**, **Bluebird Soaring**, and new fan **Uftaki** -- thanks for keeping with me and giving me feedback. And thanks to Sunny, Fireflight, and Beachcomber for so many people enjoying that chapter.

And ajremix, if you read down this far -- review plz! :p


	21. in which five become one

21. In which five become one

"Aerialbots, merge!" Silverbolt shouted the order as he transformed in mid-air, surrounded by streaks of energy from Seeker weapons and ground-to-air missiles. In the midst of deadly chaos he became completely helpless -- wings folded, head and limbs retracted -- tumbling blind, weaponless, and out of control several thousand feet above the ground. But he had given the order, and he was confident the Aerialbots would follow it. He trusted his team to respond in time.

Sure enough, he sensed their presences drawing near. Powerful magnetic bonds reached out, drawing metal to metal, to pull the other units into place.

First was Skydive, of course. He transformed and connected smoothly, with barely a whisper. Connector ports opened, struts slid into place, cables latched on. The process was as automatic as transforming itself, and took only seconds to complete. Superion had acquired a leg.

Within the matrix of Aerialbot consciousness, Skydive's calm intellect overlapped with his leader's commanding presence, and submitted to it. Total loyalty and trust as Skydive gave up control of his own body -- now only a component of a much larger being. He surrendered to Silverbolt and to Superion, offering up his love of flying (to counteract Silverbolt's twinge of acrophobia), and his knowledge of strategy and air warfare that they might defeat their enemy together. As a final gesture of unity, he opened up his memories. All their past missions were now seen from two different perspectives, and their previous life histories braided together into an unbreakable chain of experience and knowledge.

_/ We are one. /_

Now they sensed another, coming in fast. It slammed into place with a jolt that sent Superion tumbling in the other direction. Almost before the connection was complete, a third mind pushed into theirs -- brash, bursting with bravado, and singing with carefree confidence like a skylark in spring. Thoughts to the effect of _Let's kick some tailfin, big guy_ went through the group mind like lightning. Air Raid's personality overlapped with Skydive's intellect and Silverbolt's caution, the effect something like drinking an entire pot of hot coffee in the morning.

Well, at least now their gestalt had two feet to stand on.

With great effort, the group mind assimilated the new presence. Air Raid wasn't exactly resisting, but his wildness was hard to tame for any purpose. It was the thought of 'kicking tailfin' as Superion that eventually got him to calm down long enough for the integration of personalities and memories to take place. His energy and optimism became a part of them, and now they saw the universe through three sets of optics.

_/ We are one. /_

Another member joined almost immediately. The first contact was a cheerful, if distracted greeting, along the lines of _Hey guys, how's it going?_ It could only be Fireflight.

The new mind was wandering, pulled in a dozen different directions by random whims and stimuli, even as the group mind gently enveloped it and pulled it in. New thoughts, formed mostly of pictures rather than words, swirled around inside the collective consciousness -- vivid images of people and places the others could barely remember seeing. Details they never would've noticed themselves began to fill the gap between memories. Now that wayward curiosity and child-like sense of wonder became part of them as well, just enough to balance the focus and purpose of the rest of the group.

_/ We are one. /_

Now there was just one more. Mere seconds had passed since Silverbolt issued the order, but the Aerialbots had experienced the effect of downloading several lifetimes of information. Days' worth of conversations had passed between them wordlessly in the wink of an eye. Now all four were calling out, a silent, pulsing call ringing out in all directions from the incomplete gestalt...

At last, a fifth voice answered.

The final Aerialbot was cursing his slowness even as he joined the group. His anger, bitterness, and self-disappointment washed over them in waves, a veritable fortress wall protecting everything vulnerable within. The others had let down their guards, but his always refused to come down at first. No matter how much he wanted to join, part of him always fought, kicking and screaming. Through the anger they could feel the fear -- fear of losing the control he had fought so hard for, fear of trusting another, of submitting to their will only to be used and cast aside. The fear that protected his Spark by wrapping it in barbed wire.

They reached out. He flinched back. He cursed himself for flinching. He tried to reach for them, but he was still holding something back. Flickers of things he didn't want to share came and went, but the invitation from the other four remained steady, Sparks open and desiring.

When at last (after a second that passed like an eternity) Slingshot took a metaphorical breath and immersed himself in the group mind, an overwhelming joy shot through them, a sense of completeness and unity. With their minds and Sparks united, the five who had become one released a pulse of mental energy that woke the sleeping gestalt.

_/ All are one. Activate Superion. /_

The sixth, dormant personality housed in all their minds suddenly bubbled to the surface. The five were submersed in a dreamlike state, only distantly aware of the actions of their own bodies. Superion was in charge now. He was programmed for combat beyond all of their specifications, and the only way for him to function was for all five to submit their individual wills for the time being. He assimilated them, drawing from each the traits and abilities that he needed.

The strength to command.

The intelligence to outsmart his enemies.

The courage to face all obstacles.

The insight to overlook nothing.

The will to fight to the bitter end.

Alone, they functioned as separate units. Together, they became part of something much greater. Superion was the apex of perfection, the maximum ideal sum of his components. A true war machine, with all of their strengths and none of their weaknesses -- no phobias, no self-doubts, no distractions. Yet he was only the shell, a weapon they used when all others failed. The true strength behind him lay in their bonds as a group, even when not submerged by the gestalt's personality. If they did not trust one another to open their Sparks and share their very selves, Superion could not exist. It was that which made them more than a mere unit. It was that which made their Combiner mode work, when so many others had failed.

Superion raised his head, sensors fully activated. He righted himself in midair with the use of powerful anti-grav thrusters, and looked around before drawing a weapon.

_Gestalt unit: online. Searching for targets._

Beneath the layer of combat programming, all five Aerials cheered him on.

- - - - -

A/N: This didn't feel like a very good chapter. I only wish I was better at describing non-action, non-dialogue scenes. Metaphysical stuff is so _draining_. Originally Superion was going to come online as soon as Silverbolt gave the order, but then I thought: No, he'd need all five of them connected to activate. The way it works (in this story anyway) is, you need the whole team to combine into Superion, but if like, one or two limbs get knocked off once they're joined, he can still function. Of course, it might be awkward fighting with a lot of limbs missing.

I wish to make it clear that there is a difference between Superion and the group mind. Superion only exists in battle, and he's basically a semi-intelligent shell program designed solely to react to combat scenarios. What actually connects the five Aerialbots is the gestalt programming which allows them to share thoughts and memories on a level ordinary (non-Combiner) mechs can't. They have to be connected to become Superion, but they don't have to become Superion to connect with each other. If that's confusing, just don't worry about it. Enjoy the big guy -- I don't write him very often because he's just plain difficult.

On to the fun part: Review replies!

**blood shifter**: Cybertronians can go without food a bit longer than us, but still, the more they exert themselves the less pleasant the effects are. Flight's problem was that he was flying, searching and burning fuel instead of just staying where he was and waiting for the team to find him. But that's Flight for you. (And yes, the jets and Sideswipe will make a reappearance very soon.)

**Evermore Reality**: Addicted? Join the club. I do want to write some stuff for other characters on the side, but I don't think I'll ever be able to stop writing for the Aerials. They literally got me into Transformers in the first place, so I owe them.

**ajremix**: Yes, puppies with wings. Flight only finds painting easy because he has an eye for detail, and he was mostly painting a sky, which means worrying about color and little else. The more he gets into this hobby, the more challenges he'll run into. I'm sure he'll find he's better at some forms of art than others, same as I did. (I'm glad you liked Jealousy, I didn't get a whole lot of reviews for that one but I was proud of it. Slingshot lived a very different life before he joined the Aerials, and it's given him an outlook similar to Sandstorm's in a lot of ways... which is probably why they tear into each other so much.)

**Crimson Starlight**: World of Warcraft? Arrrgh. You must return to the cuddly jets, yes you must. If they snuggle more, will you stay and read? :P

Thanks for the praises and comments. If you have any questions regarding any of the Aerialbots' characters, past histories, thoughts during the events of a chapter, etc. -- just ask the Aerials themselves. They'll answer their own fanmail here too, as well as in Collide. I can't guarantee their honesty, but at least their replies are more interesting than mine.


	22. in which Bolt is rudely awakened

22. In which Bolt is rudely awakened (Follow-up to Chapter 12)

Silverbolt woke up. He didn't want to. He felt like molten slag -- his fuel tank churning, his head pounding, sensors emitting odd bursts of crackling static as he tried to bring them online. His whole body buzzed with the aftereffects of consuming too much "heavy" energon. He didn't want to wake up, no.

But something was ordering him to. Some_one_. He tried without success to peg the voice.

"-bolt. Silverbolt!"

"Nngh... whas?" He finally figured out how to switch on his optics. Oooh, that was a fantastically bad idea. In fact, he was never turning them on again. "Who's talking?" he finally queried almost pitifully.

"Who do you think?" the deep voice rumbled.

Painfully, he squinted at the source again. "A big, red and blue blur. Now go away, I'm trying to--" He stopped as the colors finally clicked in his head. "Prime?"

"Good guess."

He tried to muster a sense of shame. Thankfully, it was still lying asleep somewhere in the back of his head, beneath layers of fuzzy apathy and confusion. "Where'm I?"

"In your quarters." The voice had taken on an almost too-patient tone.

"Hnh." A thought wormed its way up slowly through the murk. More of an image than a coherent thought, really: four little red-and-white winged figures capering like imps around his unconscious dream-form. He translated it into a question. "Where's my team?"

Here came the other shoe. Prime let him have it, in his calmest, most conversational tone.

"Two of them are in the brig. One escaped, hasn't been seen in hours, and the last one is currently sleeping off a very heavy load of high-grade."

_Now_ the sense of shame welled up, finally roused from its slumber. With it came alarm, anger, worry, and a whole host of other emotions Silverbolt wouldn't be prepared to deal with on a good day, let alone now. Somehow he found himself on his feet, tottering toward the door with one arm shielding his still-tender optical sensors and the other outstretched to keep him from slamming into the wall. Someone, it must have been Prime, grabbed his shoulder to steady him. Silverbolt was vaguely aware that he was shouting, hurting his own head, but it felt good to yell so he ignored the pain. Everything hurt anyway.

"I'm going to dismember. Every. Last. One of them! I'll make them wish they'd defected and joined Starscream when they had the chance. I'll have them scrubbing the Ark for weeks, rain _or_ shine, I'll put them all in dunce caps and duct-tape them to Ratchet's ceiling and let him use them for tool-throwing practice..."

He ranted on, scarcely aware of what he was saying or that he wouldn't remember it in an hour, at most. He conjured colorful threats and punishments that rang off the walls of the corridor they were staggering down, Prime simply nodding the whole way. He knew full well that Silverbolt wouldn't be able to carry out a single one of said threats, or even repeat them in the Aerialbots' hearing (well, maybe Air Raid's, once they caught him). But it felt good to rant. He had, himself, behind closed doors, verbally blasted and dismembered his whole crew on more than one occasion.

Whether they tricked you into drinking yourself unconscious and let the Prime wake you up, or painted flames on your truck and a naked woman on your mudflap while you were recharging... it was just one of those burdens a commander had to bear.

- - - - -

There. Told you it was short. Anyway, if I keep 'em short like this it should be easier for me to update more often, so look on the bright side.

Just a couple of replies to reviewers' questions right now, because I'm tired.

**akisawana**: Wow, you know, I never gave it that much thought. I mostly took their 2-dimensional toy bios and fleshed 'em out. I guess they could be considered a dysfunctional family, though I don't know how close the similarities are between human psych and "robo-psychology".

Remember, in this they weren't made all at the same time. They come from different backgrounds, though the Combiner project has given them an incredibly close group bond in a relatively short amount of time. Quite possibly, they all had some degree of dysfunctional childhoods, shaping their roles the way they are, and either it's coincidence they all ended up together or that's just the personality types picked for the Combiner project. Either way, it's a good point.

Should I do some drabbles exploring their youth, before they met? I've already done a bit of that with Slingshot, I don't know if anyone would be interested in the rest.

- And a few questions from Tiamat, for the Aerials themselves:

**Silverbolt**: "What patience? (looks at the others) I have patience? If you mean why I haven't killed them yet, I don't have space to hide the bod-- Oh, all _right_. They're malfunctional, but they can't help it. I just try to remember that."

**Skydive**: "Well, originally I was the only one interested in our new alt-modes, and why they were chosen. I started looking up the history and specs of all the fighter jets, and just trailed off from there into military history, then aviation in general, then kind of circled back around to military history and wars and then into dogfight tactics, and it occurred to me I could probably pull off more stunts than a real F-16, so I should try some of these and see how far I could push them..." (Now look what you've done! I had to edit this answer for space. You get the idea.)

**Fireflight**: "We were all in the same flight academy. There aren't many on Cybertron, and most are just for Seekers, so it was really crowded. I was a washout, but they didn't really seem to care. In fact, they helped me with my training... But Thing asked me not to tell you anymore, because she's saving it for another story." (Smiles brightly)

**Air Raid**: "More times than I can count. It makes dogfighting when you have ground-to-air cover fire pretty exciting. The Seekers can tell each other apart, naturally, but to groundpounders we all look alike. Come to think of it, I can't tell the sports cars apart half the time..." (shrugs)

**Slingshot**: "Paired with? Why, what do you have in mind? (shudders) You're not going to slash me with some wheelbound dirt-hugger, are you? I don't trust fangirls at all. I'm not answering that." (Note from Author: Sorry, he's seldom cooperative with questions. But as to pairing him up, wait and see; I've got a few things in store.) "HEY! I heard that! I don't trust YOU either! Where's my lawyer? I want to speak to HasTak..."

- The rest of you are still special, and if you have any questions of your own I (or the jets) will be happy to answer them. Thank you for staying with me and reviewing, and sorry for the long wait.


	23. in which jets make great toys

23. In which jets make great toys

(Virgo/ajremix gave me this idea. Yes, it's a bit unrealistic and would be an insurance nightmare in real life, but it makes for a funny image. I think.)

"I want to ride the black one!"

"Can we go flying, please please pretty please?"

"Hey, what does this do?"

"Hm -- I don't know. I guess you can try it and see."

"Will you little buggers get OFF my wing?"

Silverbolt wasn't sure whether to smile or cringe at the scene before him. Prime was beside him, watching with unabashed amusement, though the mask mostly hid his smile. "Was this a great idea, Optimus?"

"They seem to be doing quite well."

Silverbolt looked doubtful. He could still hear Slingshot shouting at the human children as they clambered all over him and his brothers. Skydive was keeping him restrained with verbal threats, but the Harrier wasn't known for his patience, particularly where organics were concerned. Meanwhile, Air Raid was itching to take them flying and Fireflight had actually let them into his cockpit, which was bound to lead to trouble. Still, if the laughs and screams were anything to go by, the humans at least were enjoying themselves.

"Meet the Autobots" had originally been a publicity stunt proposed by some human politician; Prime had surprised and alarmed most of his crew by accepting. Various 'bots had taken turns over the past few weeks, appearing in public and allowing humans to get close and take pictures, ask questions, etc. Some of the more cooperative ones had visited schools so that classloads of children could get a hands-on introduction to Cybertronians. The kids, naturally, were a lot less shy about it than the adults, and tended to treat them like mobile playgrounds.

Some Autobots minded. Some didn't. In the case of the Aerialbots, opinions were mixed.

Fireflight laughed without malice as one of the kids did something to his console that, presumably, tickled. Air Raid had gone to robot mode and was tossing a couple of kids into the air and catching them, until Skydive transformed and made him stop. The kids on Slingshot's wings were now jumping up and down, until the Harrier finally had enough and snapped rather abruptly into robot mode, plucking them off.

"All right, all _right_, you little abominations. I get enough tumblings from my own team without a bunch of organic larvae stamping on--"

"Slingshot," warned Skydive and Silverbolt simultaneously. The Harrier glanced over at his leader and huffed. One of the kids, glaring, ran up and kicked him ineffectually in the shin.

"The white plane sucks!" the child declared. "It's got a stupid nosecone anyway!"

Slingshot's mouth fell open. "You little--"

"Hurt one hair on their heads and Prime will ground you for life!" Skydive shouted, almost at his wits' end. His threat seemed to sink into Slingshot, however; the white jet subsided and mumbled an apology, only for the kids to start throwing things at him.

"Hey now, that's enough," one of their human caretakers called, moving forward to put a stop to it. She sounded about as exasperated as Skydive. The gray jet started to thank her, but had to spin around to tell Air Raid to watch his feet; the F-15 had decided to make a fool of himself by dancing a jig amidst a crowd of excited children. Fireflight was now being thoroughly vandalized by half a dozen fourth-graders and laughing so hard his alt-mode was shaking.

Prime saw Silverbolt's expression and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Ten minutes to go. We promised them."

"I'm not sure they'll survive that long," the Concorde muttered.

The damn mech smiled again, Silverbolt knew it; his optics literally twinkled. "The children, Silverbolt, or your team?"

Silverbolt turned around yet again, to find Slingshot in robot-mode somehow pinned on his back, at least twenty children sitting on various parts of him while he, on the verge of panic and unable to move for fear of hurting them, begged his teammates for mercy. Air Raid stood laughing unhelpfully at him while Skydive attempted to pluck off the Harrier's attackers as gently as possible; the teachers were hollering at either him or the kids, and one woman looked ready to go into hysterics at the danger the children were in. Fireflight had somehow tipped over onto one wing and was quivering and wobbling as he tried to right himself.

Silverbolt clapped his face in his hands and groaned. "Tell me when it's over."

- - - - -

**Sunstreaker**: That story will get written, just wait. I haven't decided whether to put it here or make it a separate ordeal.

**Tiamat1972**: Prime's taking him to collect his Aerialbots from the brig and to try to find Air Raid, since he'd be better at it, hangover or no.

**Atalan**: It was a long and involved plot that involved Sunstreaker's artistic abilities, his brother plotting with Jazz and a handful of other discrete recruits, and the hard-won cooperation of Prowl and Ratchet, who agreed only when they were promised no one would get hurt -- only defaced. It remains a shining moment in Ark prank history, predominantly because no one was ever charged for it.

**akisawana**: YOU SHOULD NOT BE AMUSED BY FIREFLIGHT PAIN! Ahem. Though I will show you what he went through, sometime hopefully in the near future. So far I've only done Slingshot angst, and just about everybody has written Silverbolt angst, so I'm not gonna touch on that one.

Skydive and Fireflight... well, you saw them in Drinking, helping to drag Silverbolt off. Whatever Air Raid talked them into, they got caught while he simply ran faster. Actually, given that both are pretty honest mechs, they probably didn't run at all, but sheepishly surrendered when the officers showed up. They won't be in there long, few hours tops. And Silverbolt can't threaten them much to their faces because... could _you_ tell Fireflight, even not-seriously, that you'll ground him for life or do anything horrible to him? Silverbolt's ticked, but he's not Sparkless.

**ToaVeka**: According to Skydive, "You have to understand, most of us have never been unable to fly... well, not since early in our creation, but we don't really remember that. So it's hard for us to describe the feeling to a ground-bound being. Slingshot knows, I think, but he's not exactly the most poetic guy to explain. Just think of moving in three dimensions, and having to account for gravity and wind resistance and air pressure and all those things, all the time. We take it for granted, but it would probably feel strange to you. And yeah, it's a joy and a rush sometimes, but it's not total freedom. You still have physics and everything to worry about. Make a mistake on the ground and you might trip, no big deal; make a mistake at several thousand feet and it's a different story, you know?

"Still, if we were deprived of that ability, I think most of us would rather cease to exist. As I said, we don't know what it's like _not_ being able to fly, except for Slingshot, and he's flat-out said he would rather die than lose his wings. We're not just built for it, we're _programmed_ for flying. Grounding an Aerialbot, or a Seeker, is... taking away part of who we are. You might as well be asked to live the rest of your life without a sense of touch."

**elvenarchress**: You asked what the Aerialbots do when they need time away from their wingmates. Here are their answers.

_Silverbolt_ -- "My best option is to sit down for a drink with Hot Spot, if he's available. He knows something of what I'm going through. I've found Springer to be a fairly sympathetic ear as well, when he's on Earth. Sometimes I actually find paperwork more relaxing than teamwork, and hole myself up in my office for awhile; Prowl usually helps redirect my calls then."

_Skydive_ -- "I tune them out and read something on the computer that'll bore them, so they start ignoring me pretty quick. Reading gives me a bit of privacy even if I'm in the middle of a common room full of brawling brothers."

_Air Raid_ -- "Usually I just take off and find a couple of Decepticons to hassle, or take a patrol route just to get out for awhile. Sometimes I take Flight along, 'cause I usually don't get tired of him even when I want to strangle the rest of them."

_Fireflight_ -- "Well, the others are always watching out for me, which gets to be a little tiring sometimes. I mean, it's nice they stop me from daydreaming into walls or remind me I need to report to a debriefing, but sometimes I just want to be left alone for a while. There's a spot I go to just above the Ark, a really good lookout from the mountain where you can see for miles and no one comes to bother you. Well, Raid might come and bother me, but that's okay."

_Slingshot_ -- "Problem with getting away from the other Aerialbots is, then I have to deal with everyone else. Still, sometimes it comes down to either decking someone or storming out of the common room, and then I go vent my frustration on someone else. Usually a videogame. They all know not to bother me when I'm playing alone. Or I find Blades or Cliffjumper and we yell at each other until the boss 'bots throw us out. Hey, it's my coping mechanism, like it or not."


	24. in which group showers are fun

24. In which group showers are fun (Follow-up to Chapter 23)

"Okay, bubble gum is now my worst enemy."

"I've got playground sand in places I didn't know I had..."

"Do most organics regurgitate like that if you toss them in the air? I've never seen anything like that."

Silverbolt gave them all a shove, tired of questions and whining. "Shower room. Now."

They complied willingly enough. All of them needed it; Air Raid had been thrown up on (served him right in Skydive's book), Slingshot was dropping sand everywhere and Fireflight's passenger space was a horrible mess. A long blast of hot water and solvent would take care of most of it, and Silverbolt had called ahead to be sure the washracks were cleared. A quartet of dirty, jostling jets took up an awful lot of space, even in the _Ark_.

The only mech they encountered was Prowl, guarding the room to be sure other Autobots kept clear. He arched an eye-ridge at Silverbolt in his somehow-not-quite-mocking way. "I trust the visit went well."

Silverbolt was not in the mood. "Next time, you get to chaperone and I'll make sure the washracks are ready for you. You can do us all a big favor by talking Prime out of the whole thing, anyway."

"I tried. Repeatedly." Prowl shook his head, taking in the team's sorry state. "Take all the time you need."

They split between two racks, Skydive helping Fireflight clean out his interior while Air Raid scrubbed sand off of Slingshot. Silverbolt watched until he was sure they were too worn-out to start brawling. Then he declared that he was off to the Lounge and taking a temporary break from being team leader.

"Have fun," Air Raid called indifferently. Slingshot was being a grouch, wouldn't hold still, and the F-15's mind was elsewhere.

Skydive was having somewhat better luck. Getting Fireflight to hold still was no chore as long as he had something shiny to look at. A hand-sized mirror proved just the thing. Flight frowned studiously at his own head in the reflection while Skydive busied about his cockpit, carefully scrubbing as much as he could reach ("How on Cybertron did you manage to get chewing gum under your seat? Oh, great, there's a drinkbox under there too...") and trying not to snap at the other two jets, who were beginning to get into a shouting match.

"Sling, will you stop dancing around? I can barely hold this thing."

"Stop JABBING me, you hack, and I might just think about it. Sigma, the _Hatchet's_ more careful than you."

"Well, I'm pretty much working with junk here--"

"That does it, turn around. I'm going to show YOU what that feels like."

Finally, Fireflight giggled -- whether from Skydive's rummaging hands or his brothers' antics, it was difficult to tell -- and the gray jet lost his patience. He withdrew his hands and slammed the cockpit shut a bit hard. "Alright, you lot. Have fun and finish this by yourselves. I'm off to drown myself in research and hopefully scare you all away with my aura of boring." Giving a dramatic flourish of a cleaning rag, which wound up airborne in Air Raid's general direction, he stormed out.

Air Raid laughed and applauded. "Way to emote there, Mr. Perfect Pupil. I had a feeling he'd lose it sooner or later."

"He's not the only one," Slingshot grumbled.

"Oh, don't be that way. Look, I'm sorry, okay? Turn around and let me finish." Air Raid cheerfully grabbed Slingshot's shoulders and spun him 70 degrees to get to a bit of his armor where sand was still lodged. "Flight, gimme a hand."

The red jet wandered over, diverted from the glossy mirror. "What?"

"You got a lighter touch than mine," Air Raid explained with a roguish wink. "Maybe he won't squirm as much for you."

"Sure!"

"Uh..." But Slingshot's half-assed notion of protesting died away instantly when Flight's hands took the place of Air Raid's. They all teased the kid good-naturedly about his clumsiness, Slingshot more so than any, but he couldn't deny that Raid was right: Flight had an amazing touch. He would, fingers wandering almost dreamily, like he was barely paying attention to their movements, somehow find _just the spot_ on any lucky mech and "ping his radar" whether that was his intention or not. It reminded Slingshot oddly of the couple times he'd seen his brother paint, rendering swirls of color while hardly looking at the canvas.

At the moment, it didn't remind him of anything... in fact, everything was rapidly slipping from his mind. He even forgot to be irritated by the remaining sand that chafed in his joints, or Air Raid's devious smirk boring into his back. The black jet decided to join in after a moment, slipping around to Slingshot's front to hold him in place so that he wouldn't writhe too much. Arms around the shorter jet's waist, he nibbled gently at his nosecone and felt the Harrier quiver, a soft, needy sound escaping him. No one who listened to Slingshot speak on a regular basis would have believed him capable of that sound.

"Guys... please..."

Fireflight decided most of the sand was gone and simply leaned into his brother's back, reveling in the contact, optics dimmed. Air Raid reached past Slingshot and stroked the red jet's cheek. Fireflight's hands crawled up Slingshot's wings, still moving in that dreamy way, almost entirely of their own accord, setting off lightning flashes of pleasure from the sensors clustered along the edge. Slingshot jerked; his body slid against theirs. He forgot to be antisocial and clawed Air Raid close to him while pressing back into Fireflight's heavier bulk. The red jet was warm and supported him easily, just barely rocking back and forth in a soothing fashion while his lips moved against the Harrier's cockpit and his hands continued to drive Slingshot crazy.

Hot water continued to pour down on all of them, steam rose, and the figures were hidden in a soft white haze. The steady pressure of the water kept Slingshot's sensors busy wherever his wingmates' hands weren't already doing so. He didn't last long, one or two intense waves across the wireless connection they all shared and his legs gave out. He slipped to the floor and lay trying to cool his processor for awhile as the other two carried on without him.

When Skydive returned some time later, a little calmed down and surprised to find them still occupying the washracks, he found a happy pile of dripping red and white huddled at his feet. Slingshot, underneath the other two, looked happiest of all and wore a smile the air strategist couldn't remember seeing on his face in countless cycles.

"Feel better?" was all he could think to ask, once his vocalizer unfroze from sheer amazement.

The Harrier simply snuggled closer into the pile in response. Skydive's vocalizer froze again. Shaking his head swiftly to clear it, he turned away.

Air Raid's hand caught his ankle.

- - - - -

Hooray, a bit longer this time! And naughty! Whoo!

Not too many of you had time to reply to the last chapter yet, but akisawana did have a few questions, so I'll tackle those.

**akisawana**: True enough about the kid, but then Slingshot also has to learn to let things go and not take every smart mouth as an excuse to start trouble. The world's full of 'em, after all. He has yet to develop the sticks-and-stones mentality, and kids are a great way of teaching that, because they don't really mean anything they say. Give 'em an hour or two and they'll say the opposite.

Well, I said from the outset the idea was unrealistic, but the idea is that Prime is doing this for public relations, and kids LOVE jets. I've been to too many air museums, trust me. Most of the Aerialbots agreed, and most of them did fine. Slingshot should have stayed home, but he raises a fit any time he gets left out of something the others are doing, even if he doesn't really like it. So he brought part of it on himself.

Skydive is just naturally responsible. Silverbolt never asked him such a thing directly, but Dive does have this hero-worship crush thing for him going on, so he does his best to impress him. He's a teacher's pet, but a well-meaning one. Aside from that, though, he was reared with a batch of mostly younger jets and he's been a teacher/leader-in-training for a long time now, since his academy days.

Fireflight can't answer the question because he's not sure what you're referring to. If you're asking about the kids, see above: his interior is all sticky, but no major trauma. But you could also be asking about the Aerialbots or the mechs he flew with at the academy, for all I know.

(Thanks everybody! Please keep reviewing, it's not worth doing this otherwise!)


	25. in which Slingshot is Peter Pan

25. In which Slingshot is Peter Pan (Follow-up to Chapter 18)

"Careful with new mods," they'd said. "You've had a pretty serious reformatting done, and it'll take a while to adjust. Don't expect to be a natural on the first day. In fact, I would wait a while before doing anything risky."

They'd all said that, and they were right, he was sure. But Slingshot didn't care.

It had taken him most of his frustrated childhood, years of toil and delayed gratification, hard work and deception and blind determination, and all the savings he'd scraped up in that time. He would have to start training at the bottom of the barrel, and would have to cram lessons in between workdays, since he couldn't afford tuition otherwise. Even after training, he'd probably end up in an unglamorous job like light cargo or message delivery.

But he didn't care about any of that, either. Because he had now what he'd always wanted. And he wanted to try it.

So he stood on a rooftop, on the edge of town where air traffic was light. The breeze was just strong enough to send jangling vibrations through his newly tweaked sensors. The stars were clear, as they always were from Cybertron, even in the daytime. The nearest star, Cybertron's cold and distant "sun", had already set. Artificial light was scarce in the mostly abandoned sector. Slingshot stood in shadow.

No one could see him shivering. He preferred it that way.

Finally, after going over everything a hundred times in his head, he stuffed down his fears and transformed.

_That_ was weird, for starters. He'd not tried the new alt-mode yet. He was relieved when it went smoothly, everything sliding into place as if he'd been born with it. Transforming was an automated process once triggered, but a mech could gain conscious control over it with time. Slingshot hadn't had time, and the change left him bewildered and disoriented for a moment. Air continued to move across strange surfaces, sensor readings bombarded him from new angles, and he sat for a moment to calm himself, just to get used to the shape he was now in.

Soon however, a sweet hunger overtook him. The faint breeze brushing along his wings was tantalizing. This body _wanted_ to fly. He'd felt this longing as far back as he could remember, but now it was just irresistible, begging, screaming. He knew what to do. He searched his new programming and found a trigger, and jets flared to life underneath him.

He shot up, fast, surprising himself. For a second he panicked. His wheels were off the ground, fears from his old programming asserted themselves, and he lost control. He wobbled and skewed and spun and almost sheared sideways into a nearby tower. Instinct took over in the nick of time and he overcorrected, only to spiral at a steep angle towards the street.

_No no no, idiot, you're doing it wrong! STOP!_

Cruel or no, the self-chiding inner voice he'd always lived with saved his tailfin this time. Automatically he obeyed it, leveled himself with determination -- almost snapping a rudder -- and banked back around hard. In case he was going to crash, he'd rather land on the same building he'd started on. But by the time it came into view, he found the panic fading. Wrenching himself about in the air had gotten him thinking and reacting again. He banked gently in the other direction, trying a slow turn, and though his wings wobbled and his nosecone bobbed erratically once or twice, he wasn't going to crash. He wasn't.

He was _flying_.

Oh, Primus, what a feeling. The wind that had been teasing him was suddenly a firm and constant force pushing on his wings, lifting him up, he'd been held down so many times but never been _lifted_, the feeling of dropping everything away beneath him, no strings to tie him down, not even gravity.

He was _flying_.

He pointed his nose up, and his jets roared, and he shot higher, the fear gone, a wild joy welling up in his Spark. Rising, not sinking down but rising, and the sky so open, he could see it all and reach it all, just point himself at any light on the horizon and _go_. "Second star to the right and straight on till morning" -- it would be years before Slingshot even heard of Earth, but he might well have agreed with Peter Pan on that day.

He was _flying_!

A wild laughter flew from the careering, jerking, freshly painted jet on its maiden flight, but only the stars could hear it.

- - - - -

Sorry for the rather abrupt ending, and the shortness. I'm a bit preoccupied tonight. I wanted to write Slingshot happy again, though. He's had enough angst for one fic (maybe).

**akisawana**: I have a daughter in her twos, and an autistic little sister. They inspire me quite a bit in how the team treats Fireflight. He's got childlike innocence, and definitely a sort of learning/attention disorder. (And here's another bit of history for ya, just one team member though)

**Dragowolf**: Well Skydive missed the first part, so now they've got to drag him into it. ;) Don't worry, Silverbolt greatly exaggerates the stress he's put under. He's actually just melodramatic, but he loves his team.

**ToaVeka**: Yep, that was Flight. Naturally he'd be the only ones letting the kids mess with his controls. Silly. (shakes head)

**KitokiriKurisuta** and **Lament of Meow**: Glad to have you! Fan worship is my fuel. Thanks to all of you who read and review!

Oh, and **sonofan8track**, who's doing some awesome Wheeljack drabbles, had a question for the Aerialbots a few chapters back. So I got their answer.

Question:"You hear a loud explosion coming from Wheeljack's lab. Do you..."

A) Shrug your shoulders and figure he'll be alright?

B) Comm Ratchet for assistance?

C) Run in the opposite direction, in case he does it again?

D) Oh, shiny! (wanders over to check it out)

E) Something completely different.

Silverbolt: "I'd pick B, it's one of those duty things. But wipe my hands of it after informing Ratchet. Wheeljack isn't my problem, and I have four others demanding my attention."

Skydive: "I'll go with B, because I'm a shameless suck-up. Actually, I'd rather let Ratchet deal with the mess, and I know Wheeljack too well to think he can help himself out of his catastrophes."

Slingshot: "Run away, live to run another day and all that. I get enough parts blown off me by Decepticons, I'm not taking chances with Wheeljack. I pick C."

Air Raid: "Ooh, E is completely different. I like that. Like Monty Python!"

Fireflight: (Has forgotten the question and become fascinated by something else)

Air Raid: "Okay, he's definitely a D." :P (The Aerialbots, ladies and gentlemen!)


	26. in which Silverbolt tells a story

26. In which Silverbolt tells a story (Follow-up to Chapter 15)

(Warnings for mature topics: discussion of merits of physical discipline. Gets pretty intense. If it reads like a lecture, that's because I happen to feel very strongly about this.)

"Yo. Blades."

The helo turned around, wary; the voice belonged to Air Raid, which explained his reaction. Under ordinary circumstances, and especially given the confrontation they'd had only yesterday, Blades expected only trouble from the owner of that voice. But today he wasn't alone; First Aid and Streetwise sat with him, and if neither was exactly the most combative of mechs, they wouldn't allow someone to mess with their brother either. So he didn't rise to the defensive... yet. Even when he saw Slingshot was with him.

"Got a minute?" Air Raid asked, still doing the talking. Slingshot stood sullenly by his side, avoiding looking directly at the Protectobot. But then, he was the less social of the two. And Air Raid's voice sounded civil enough... Blades shrugged.

"Got a couple hours. Not going anywhere until my next patrol. Why? Do you two need flying lessons?"

There was a bit of bristling on Slingshot's part, but neither of them actually rose to the bait. Instead of a retort, what Blades got was, "We owe you an apology. I mean, kind of. You did hit Fireflight, and that... well, that's not cool. But I'm guessing you didn't mean it." The hard expression that edged his optics at that statement said that he'd better not have meant it.

Blades thought briefly about baiting them again, but decided it would be stupid, even for him. He shook his head. "I didn't see him," he said honestly. "When you're all together like that I can't tell you apart. I wasn't going after your mate, just you guys. I don't hit people who don't hit first." Well, that part wasn't entirely honest, but it was close. And it was true he hadn't been aiming at Flight, or even realized he was in the way.

That seemed to be enough to satisfy Air Raid, who nodded, relaxed again. "In that case, yeah, apology owed. We overreacted a tad. You know, Aerialbot high spirits and all." He grinned, as if he found the whole situation amusing in retrospect... which he probably did. It wouldn't surprise Blades at all.

Slingshot still didn't look happy; that didn't surprise Blades either. But all of a sudden he did something that surprised the hell out of _all_ the Protectobots at the table (to say nothing of Air Raid). He cycled his vents, squared his shoulders, looked Blades in the eye, and said, "I'm sorry." There was the briefest incredulous pause; almost hurriedly he went on, "Sorry we ganged up on you. That wasn't really fair on our part. You don't stand a chance against one of us, let alone two. Next time I decide to kick your ass, I'll tell Air Raid to stay out of it."

He hesitated, then thrust out a hand, stiffly, unfamiliar with the gesture. "Deal?"

Blades stared at the hand. He was still in something of a daze as he took it in an uncertain shake. "Uh, yeah. Sure. Hey, did Ironhide knock some wiring loose when he smacked you guys, or what?"

Something in his face flickered, and Slingshot stepped back, suddenly hard to read -- Blades knew most of his negative reactions, and he couldn't tell if what he glimpsed was a flash of anger, embarrassment, hurt, disgust, or all of the above. Whatever it was, it passed quickly. The Harrier shrugged, "Whatever," and turned away to show that he was done with the helicopter. "C'mon, Raid, now we got that over with. I still owe you a virtual aft-kicking."

As they walked out to resume their gaming, Air Raid gave an absent-minded wave to the corner. "Hi, Bolt."

From where he had sat watching the whole exchange, entirely without interference or influence -- not even a subtle visual signal to the pair, who hadn't looked at him anyway -- Silverbolt allowed himself a small beam of pride after they were gone. He looked at Ironhide, sitting beside him, and saw a bit of that pride reflected, along with an astonishment similar to Blades'.

"Well, what d'you know?" The old warrior shook his head. "Never thought they had it in 'em. Maybe I did manage to knock some sense into 'em after all, huh?"

He meant it lightly, but Silverbolt turned a dark expression his way. It wasn't so much angry as troubled, and the Aerialbot leader reinforced that impression by sighing and rubbing his optics.

"Ironhide, I need to mention something about that. I was angry yesterday, beyond angry really, and possibly out of line, threatening you. But I don't want you to think for a minute that I didn't mean every word." He paused, looking up, gathering himself to say something, something obviously difficult. Or private.

"I can't imagine what Cybertron was like when you were young, or what kind of upbringing you had. It isn't any of my business. But I'm going to tell you some things about my team that I wouldn't divulge unless I thought they were very important, so please, listen for a moment." He turned to stare into space, and Ironhide waited, with a patience few would have thought he possessed, wondering what would have made such a young mech look like he had so much weight on his shoulders.

Quite suddenly Silverbolt began to speak again. "We have no secrets from Superion, you know. Through him, we know everything about each other's strengths and weaknesses... and more. Through him, I know that Skydive was the only one of us lucky enough to have been raised without violence." Ironhide blinked. Silverbolt wasn't looking at him. "The excuses are easy. There's a war on, you know. People are fighting everywhere -- why should the young mechs in training have it any different? For me, it began with my first flight. I had a fully qualified mentor, one who had showed patience with me in everything else. The time came for me to make my first launch, off a platform about ten stories tall. Good height, you could get above the buildings that way. He was standing beside me, ready to assess my takeoff." The voice slowed, became pained. "I... couldn't. I looked over the edge and for the first time I imagined what it would be like to fall so far. It paralyzed me. I transformed, took a step back, and told him I couldn't do it."

He forced himself, it seemed, to look at Ironhide. "He pushed me. No warning. I was still frozen. I managed to transform back and fired thrusters, but I had no steering, no control. I crashed." Optics dimmed, shuttered. "I needed extensive repairs, but the medics couldn't do anything to erase the fear that was embedded in me that day. My mentor never uttered a word of apology. He said he did what he had to, and it worked." A bitter laugh. "It worked all right. I never let myself hesitate again. But... sometimes I wonder if... if there wasn't a better way to teach me that. To this day, I hate flying. I do it with the feeling that I have to, that's all. I never hesitate... but I still feel the same old terror. If I hadn't been pushed that day, I might enjoy flying as much as the others do. Maybe not. But I _might_."

Ironhide looked away, because he had to, and picked up his energon cube even though it was empty. He didn't say a word as he stared into the crystalline container. Not a damn thing he could think of to say.

Silverbolt recovered admirably. He sounded a little shaken, but he picked up and drained the rest of his own cube, then went on calmly. "Well, we all have our issues. At least, after talking to a bunch of psychs, I was able to pin down mine. Poor Fireflight, though... No one knows why he loses focus the way he does. I think it was the way he was made, not something that was done to him. But that doesn't stop the fact that a lot of people _have_ done things to him, trying to change him. Trying to 'make him pay attention'." An angry snort. "Needless to say, it worked about as well with him as it did with me. He never could stick with an instructor for long, they'd give him up in disgust, but the last one he had -- from what Air Raid's told me -- thought for sure he could fix him. Unfortunately, he was one of those mechs who thought fixing a broken piece of equipment meant yelling at it and pounding on it with a wrench." The anger in his voice rose, was checked forcefully. "Kid still had dents in his head when I met him," he finished quietly.

"Primus watch over them," Ironhide murmured softly, the old prayer falling from his lips without a thought. Silverbolt went on as if he hadn't heard.

"Air Raid was luckier. He took quite a few smacks, both in fights and from would-be disciplinarians, but it never seemed to stick with him. He just got more and more unruly. Took me forever just to get him to listen to an order that didn't have some kind of threat behind it -- that's how out of control it had gotten. He'd had so many people lose their temper with him that it just didn't faze him anymore. He's still difficult, Primus knows, but he _does_ listen now, and he'll stand up for me or his team till Unicron comes. He's a hero. He always was, dammit -- just no one saw it. All that recklessness and high-spiritedness they were trying to stamp out, has saved our afts more times than I can count.

"And Slingshot... oh, Slingshot. His privacy means a lot to him, I don't want to take that away. But I can tell you that every cruel thing you've ever heard him say to another mech, he's heard that himself, and worse, time and again. My whole team is just starting to chip away all of that slag that was knocked into his skull. When you lashed out at them yesterday, he backslid a little. He does that sometimes. It's not usually serious, but it keeps him from recharge. He stays up and games all night to drown out the yelling voice in his head."

There was a long, shaken pause, the air still vibrating with words not strong enough for what they were trying to convey. Silverbolt seemed to be waiting for Ironhide to speak, but at length, when it became apparent he wasn't, the Aerialbot commander finished. "I believe you had good intentions. I believe that you did what you thought was right. But that doesn't matter. It doesn't matter if it's done out of anger or _necessity_ or, or for 'someone's own good'. It messed up at least two of us, didn't do two others any good at all... and I'm not going to let it happen again. You keep your beliefs, Ironhide, and your methods. If they work with your recruits, and if Prime approves them, it's none of my business. Just don't lay a hand on my team again."

Without another word he picked up his empty cube and left. Ironhide had plenty of time to reply, or shout something after him, but didn't. He sat staring into his own for many more dragging minutes, then picked it up and crushed it in his fist.

- - - - -

I am so writing something lighter next chap. Apologies, but I'm exhausted. No reader replies tonight. I'll catch up next chapter, okay?


	27. in which Air Raid plays hero

27. In which Air Raid plays hero

(The story of how Fireflight and Air Raid met in academy days, since they were friends before they joined the other Aerialbots. **Be warned, it isn't entirely pretty. Fireflight gets beaten up, so if you don't want to read that, skip to the sweetness at the end of the chapter.**

(For the rest of you: I try to be realistic when I do put violence into my fics, so it'll be to the point and not drawn out for drama's sake. I've never been beaten up on this level, so I based it on the experience of various acquaintances who have and were willing to share the details. It shames me a little to torture the character I love, but let's face it, Fireflight is the sort of person who would be a magnet for this. And you know I'll rescue him. Always do.)

"So here's the deal, kid," said the bigger jet to Fireflight. "We know you'll mess this up for us, like always. And we can't let that happen." Fireflight stared at him blankly, trying to remember his name. Skyfall? Was this Skyfall? Or was this Sky High? His team barely talked to him anyways, so he never could keep their names straight, even if he'd been good at keeping things straight. Which he wasn't. "But you can't wreck us if you're not in the air with us, can you?"

They had a test tomorrow, Flight did remember that. (At least, he did now.) This probably had something to do with that. Tailwind, their instructor, had been talking about it before, but Fireflight couldn't remember what he was saying. He'd get in trouble for that later if it turned out to have been important.

"You payin' attention here?" Fireflight blinked. He was being held fast by two of the others on the team, while Skyfall -- or Sky High -- was brandishing a thick metal bar as long as his leg, waving it in his face for emphasis. Yes, he was paying attention now. Never easy for him, but this situation seemed to call for it.

"I was sayin', Tailwind thinks we're better off flying this without you. So you're gonna make a little sacrifice for the team." There was something mean in his voice, the way his mouth curled into a smile, and the way another of the jets snickered. Fireflight felt a chill seep through his internals. "We could just lock you in a maint closet and say you got lost. Happens often enough, doesn't it? But someone might find you then. No, you gotta have a good excuse for sitting this one out. We can get a substitute, easy. All we need is a reason. Like, say, a teammate injured." He grinned, waiting for Fireflight to catch on; all he got was a confused look.

"But I'm not injured," he said slowly, wondering if Skyfall (or Sky High) had hit his head. Why else would he be making so little sense?

"No, you aren't. Huh. Well, we can fix that." He swung the bar around a few times, and Flight flinched automatically, as it was still close to his face. "Tailwind says to make it look like an accident. So here's the story, kid -- you went out for practice by yourself, weren't paying attention, and you crashed. Or you walked into a door. Whatever suits you. Just explain it to the medics like you do all your dents, right?"

_But I don't explain them. They never ask. They just think I have a lot of accidents because, well, I do. Even when they're not accidents._

Fireflight's brain was stammering at him, warnings flashing through his systems, but his mouth just worked helplessly. "I--"

"Got that? Good."

The bar came down on his wing. Delicately clustered sensors fired off damage warnings all at once, and Fireflight's vision flickered, nearly blacking from the pain. He cried out, but the grip on his arms didn't slacken. Another hit jarred him closer to the base of the wing, and he felt metal crumple. A third, and it started to tear, shearing off of his torso. It hurt spectacularly. He heard himself whimpering, but couldn't seem to form words.

"Slaggit, Sky! Almost knocked him outta my hands--"

"Hold him tighter then, you glitches." The jet's -- Fireflight no longer cared what his name was -- face had twisted into a vicious sneer, glimpsed between washes of static that came and went across Flight's optics in response to the sensory overload. After a few more hits, he switched away from the wing and started hammering dents into the almost equally sensitive nosecone. Fireflight flinched and sobbed, trying to ask him to stop, but choked half-words were all he could manage. He was growing woozy and wondered if he would enter stasis lock soon. Maybe, if Primus were kind...

The rain of blows stopped when, as Fireflight realized after a moment, the sturdy metal bar was too warped and bent from smashing into the flier's reinforced armor to be an effective weapon anymore. His tormentor cast it aside and stood back, vents rushing with exertion, looking Fireflight over with critical, still cruelly excited optics. "Damn, that won't take any time to repair at all. His wing's not even half off." He gave it a yank, eliciting another cry from his victim, but the battered wing remained stubbornly attached. "Didn't he lose an arm in that one crash? Maybe we should take one of those off."

Fireflight just looked at him, optics asking why, though he no longer spoke. Even the two holding his arms looked a little bit perturbed. "Damn, Skyfall, I don't know. I think he's had enough."

"You cowards! Tailwind'll have our thrusters if we don't--"

A wild battle cry split the air. Skyfall spun around just as he was knocked flying by a red-and-black figure smaller than he was. The other two, along with Fireflight, just stared in stunned amazement.

"What-- the-- _slag_?"

The figure now pinning Skyfall to the floor was a whirl of lashing fists, moving so fast that the return strikes missed him by a mile. Fireflight stared. His vision was clearing out of sheer amazement, and he vaguely recognized the black cockpit and wings with the lighter stripes along the edges, and the cocky cat-eared helm. The name didn't come to him right away, but he remembered a voice.

_"Hey."_

_"Huh?"_

_"You're not gonna jump, are you?"_

_A look down from the high ledge he was seated on, one of his favorite sightseeing spots. "Why would I jump?"_

_"Just thought I'd ask. You look pretty out of it."_

_"I'm just thinking. Looking."_

_"Huh." Pause. "What're you looking at?"_

_"Nothing in particular."_

_When he didn't say anything more, the other jet shrugged. "Well, if you're not gonna jump, I guess I'll leave you alone. Come hang out with me sometime if you want. Must get boring sitting up here alone all day."_

_Fireflight barely heard him. In fact, when his mind came back to it later, he wasn't sure he had heard right. Somebody inviting him to hang out with them? He'd meant to talk to the mech again sometime, maybe, if he could work up the nerve, but then his team started talking about the test and he forgot..._

"Switch, Dropoff! Get this lunatic off me!"

The two holding Fireflight seemed to have forgotten all about him. They dropped his arms and rushed forward to help their ringleader, leaving Fireflight on his knees, still stunned. He shook his head to fight off the dizziness and watched as the fight became three-to-one. Fists clanged on metal, the newcomer hopelessly outnumbered, but he moved as quick as ever, and he was laughing. _Laughing_. A wild, exultant cry that did something to Fireflight's Spark like no sound he'd ever heard. There was fighting spirit in the voice, and joy as well, as he faced three larger mechs and threw back every punch they dished at him.

"Come on, you tin cowards! It takes three of you to beat up on him, you don't stand a chance against me!" Again the laughter, quickening Fireflight's pulse, awakening something inside him. Pain roaring from damaged sensors didn't make him feel weak all of a sudden. He drew air in through his vents and pushed himself up.

The newcomer landed on his aft, knocked down by a lucky punch. Dropoff drew back a foot to kick him, just as Fireflight slammed into his back. The blue jet staggered, completely off guard, and took Skyfall down with him as gyro stabilizers failed. The three of them collapsed in a heap. Fireflight, on top, looked down at Skyfall's astonished and furious face below him. Then he drove a punch straight into it, shocking him at least as much as the other.

"How do you like it?" he shouted, shocked again by his own voice. "Is it still fun now?" He landed another punch before Dropoff heaved up and Fireflight tumbled off. Skyfall shoved Dropoff aside and made to kick Fireflight, but the other jet was suddenly in the way, standing over him.

"Who's next, scrapheaps?" he asked almost cheerfully. "Your buddy took off. Probably calling security so he can turn you guys in and save his own aft -- if someone doesn't come to check out all this noise first." He grinned, dented and battered. "Think I can hand you your afts before we get company?"

Dropoff took a big step back, looking around. "Ah, slag. Security'll be here, Sky--"

Skyfall's face was still dark with fury. "We've got time. We can still deal with these two. He's bluffing."

But they didn't have the confidence to call the smirking, fearless jet's bluff, if it was one. Skyfall stood with his fists clenched for a moment more, but he didn't make a move. Finally, Dropoff said "Scrap this" and took off running. Finding himself without followers, the ringleader cursed them all loudly and futilely, while backing reluctantly away from the two.

"You even think about trying to fly with us again," he snarled at Fireflight, "and there won't be enough pieces of you left to prove it wasn't an accident."

Flight chilled; no mech could fly alone, and to a jet, even a bad group was better than no group at all. Tailwind surely wouldn't take him back now...

But his new companion laughed, as easily as before. "Like he needs you stallers? He can always fly with me. All the cool kids are doing it. Go on, get back to your brave friends."

A wave of disorientation washed over Fireflight, almost as much from emotional shock as from the clamoring in his pain sensors. When he regained full awareness (or as close as he ever did), Skyfall was gone and the other jet was kneeling over him.

"I really think you need new friends." He was still smiling, but there was concern on his face now too, and his voice was surprisingly gentle. "You okay?"

Fireflight stared at him. He wished he could think of something to say, something that would make sense of the confusion in his head and Spark, but all that came out was, "Are you... my friend?"

_I hope so, because you saved me, and I want to be your friend, I want to know what it's like to have a friend to look out for me and fly with and talk to and not have to sit on rooftops alone all the time._ The other jet looked taken aback; he blinked. Then he grinned again, a wide, honest, carefree smile. "Sure! Why not? Name's Air Raid."

He offered Fireflight a hand to pull him up, but was more than a little unsteady himself, and ended up falling to the floor next to him with a thump. Quite ludicrously, they both started giggling.

"I'm Fireflight," said the red jet between giggles. Then he whimpered as pain flared up again, chasing all laughter away. Suddenly he felt cold and beaten up, and leaned into Air Raid for comfort. If Air Raid was surprised, he didn't let it faze him. He wrapped friendly arms around the other flier and gave him a friendly nuzzle, while they sat waiting for help to arrive.

- - - - -

GAHHH! (Bawls) Okay, okay, I'm calm now. Damn my love of brutal detail in writing. I could've left some of that to the imagination, but noooo.

Wait, I have reviewer replies to do. Okay. I'll go beat myself up for hurting Flight later. (Joking, joking... I think.)

**blood shifter**: Well, Fireflight picked Bluestreak, but the rest voted unanimously for Sunstreaker. In Air Raid's words, "At least he'd give you a merciful death." (Personally, I think even Flight would get tired of Blue talking after the first day or so, but then again, he does have a remarkable quality of tuning people out.)

**ToaVeka**: Um, didn't your OC hurt Fireflight too? I thought we discussed that :P And they did indeed get their aft-kicking (see above). They wound up facing charges too, as did Tailwind. Fireflight may not have been able to convincingly report abuse on his own, but Air Raid sure helped.

Oh, and this is from Slingshot: "What, are you kidding? I HOPE I die flying. No, seriously. I don't want to lie bleeding in some ditch, I want to explode crashing into a Seeker or something. I mean, you know, if I gotta die at all. Otherwise I don't want to explode, obviously. But that's the way to go, right there. They'll _never_ forget that one."

**Elariel**: If you're still reading, I'm sorry I could offer so little cuddling this chap, but I'll write a cutesy comfort sequel if you (or any of my fans) feel like it. I could use it, actually. Might be therapeutic. (Thing With No Talent has issuuuuuuues...)

**akisawana**: I already sent you a PM, but again, thank you and I'm glad it meant something to someone. We have seriously got to talk. Do you have AIM? (Glad you loved the Slingshot chap, and I hope you enjoy this additional backstory, even if it is totally not lighthearted at all.)

**Hitokiri**: GAH! All that effort into making sure I got the vowels in your name right, and I messed up the first CONSONANT? (Throws fit of rage) Oh, well, I guess I can call you Kitokiri now, since I've gone and been a dummy. And it IS cute. Does it mean something, by any chance? (Me and my Japanese ignorance...)

**Dragowolf**: Almost everyone has lived through some hard time in their life. Silverbolt wouldn't have told Ironhide of all people, but he thought it might get through better than just "Stop hitting my jets", and I think he was right. Remains to be seen if it'll change anything in 'Hide's thick head, though.

**Lament of Meow**: Lol, would you believe I'm totally acrophobic? If I could fly too, though, I might not be. I'd also love to breathe underwater.

**flamingmarsh**: Bolt's a brave mech, no doubt about it. If my mentor had pushed me off a building, I'd have my wings surgically removed so I never had to face the sky again. Still, he's right... there are waaaay better ways to teach.

**Anhai**: Oh crap, now I've gone and ruined the light-heartedness, haven't I? (Winces) Sorry! Hope you still like it anyway.

**Kashi**: Neither could I, that's why I started writing them. I prefer them off the battlefield, honestly. Battle scenes are boring. As for that chapter, I'm still working on it... a bunch of people have requested it, but it's proving infuriatingly tough to write.

**Anyone want to drop plot bunnies for Naive Pt. 2 (how the Aerials find out about Powerglide using Flight), please do.**

**Salalipop**: I really REALLY get attached to my fictional characters, even when they (like Transformers, duh) obviously are _not_ mine. That's why I'm so mean with some reviews. "So-and-so wouldn't do that" and so on -- I do think I'm right, but I doubt it goes over well with many people. Still, characterization is a big thing. These people feel real to me, and even when I think I'm in control of their destiny, I'm really not. I didn't expect Slingshot to be so happy in that chap. Or this one I just wrote, it wound up very different from what was planned in my head. Once the characters get in, they just do their own thing. I'm very glad that you can feel them, too, and share their adventures and their joys and sorrows with me. Even one person feeling that makes the writing worthwhile.


	28. in which Powerglide is a royal ass

28. In which Powerglide is a royal ass (Follow-up to Chapter 3)

(Contains angst and Spark-break, bastard player Powerglide and awesome Bumblebee. Yes, you heard that right. Will soon be followed by a cuddle chapter.)

"-- tell ya, last time I saw flying _that_ bad, it was a guy who'd gotten a wing shot off and his engine was on fire. I mean, no wonder they call this kid 'Fireflight'."

It was Fireflight's bad luck (or perhaps good luck, for learning the truth has saved many a being from a grave mistake) that he happened to overhear those words before the Minibots at the table caught sight of him. He had been looking for Powerglide, after waiting for him at their usual rendezvous point for nearly an hour. He was starting to worry until he heard the A-10's voice and followed it to the cluster of tables in the lounge that were designated the "Minibot Corner". There sat Powerglide talking to Warpath, Cliffjumper, Bumblebee, and Gears. Fireflight had heard his own name mentioned, and started to wave before the rest of the sentence reached him, rooting him to the spot.

Warpath and Cliffjumper were chuckling heartily in response to the comment. Gears just shook his head. "It's not funny. Why they even let that space cadet in the air is beyond me. He's gonna get somebody killed."

"They should just clip his wings," Cliffjumper scoffed, "and make him into an armored truck."

"Why? So he can run us all off the roads?"

"I know!" Warpath exclaimed. "Make him into a -- _BANG! FWAP!_ -- tank! Then he can just -- _WHAM!_ -- roll through stuff."

Powerglide leaned forward. "You wanna know what's funny? According to Silverdolt, his specialty is _recon_."

They all laughed, except for Bumblebee. "What's so funny about that?" he asked matter-of-factly.

"What kind of surveillance expert doesn't see a _building_ in front of his face?" Cliffjumper emphasized the question by miming an explosive crash. "BAM!" he shouted, and Warpath chuckled.

Bumblebee did not look impressed. "You go on scouting missions a lot," he told Cliffjumper, "even though you're about as stealthy as Warpath here with a hangover." As the others began to protest, he cut them off. "On that subject, 'Path, just how many walls have you driven through because you were in such a hurry to get to a battle you forgot there were people in those buildings?" Not waiting for a reply, he turned to Powerglide. "And Mr. Ace here causes more accidents with his showboating than Fireflight does. At least _he_ can help it."

"Now, Bumblebee, there's no reason--" Gears began.

"Sorry, but I've heard enough. You can sit here and listen to this trash if you want, Gears. I'm out of here." The yellow 'bot took up his cube and left the table in disgust.

He was the first to notice the Aerialbot standing there, looking as if someone had struck him between the eyes with an i-beam. "Fireflight!" he exclaimed in surprise. All heads at the table turned. There was an excruciating silence lasting perhaps 20 seconds.

Then Cliffjumper, for whom tact was a concept as unfathomable as subtlety, said, "Hey, speak of the devil. What d'you want, Fireball?"

Fireflight barely heard him. He stared straight at Powerglide, who was maintaining an impressive poker face. "I was looking for you," he said in a near whisper. "I thought you were going flying with me..."

The others turned to stare at Powerglide too. He gave them his best 'I don't know what he's on about' shrug. "Eh, what'd make ya think that, kid? I mean, I'm flattered an' all--"

Fireflight's words failed him. "You... You said... I thought..." The numbness he'd felt at first was beginning to dissipate. He felt his Spark contracting, felt the slow sickening lurch of his fuel tank as he realized how stupid he'd been. (Again.) The only complete sentence that he managed to form was, "I was waiting for almost an hour."

It was a testament to Powerglide's emotional fortitude (or callousness) that he withstood without flinching a face that would have had Slingshot tripping over himself to babble apologies. A more raw and unguarded look of hurt and betrayal would be difficult to imagine. Of course, if half the rumors about his track record were true, then Powerglide must have seen such looks before. In any case, he didn't lose face as he redirected the conversation.

"Where's your team got to, kiddo? They drop you 'cause of the blackout thing, or what?"

That was more than Fireflight could take. He covered his face with his hands in shame and fled, clipping his wing painfully on the doorframe on the way out. Cliffjumper started snickering.

"What was THAT -- _ZING!_ -- about?" Warpath asked his friend.

"I haven't got the faintest clue." Powerglide looked as baffled as the rest of them, but Bumblebee was watching him with narrowed optics. He was putting it together, Fireflight's words, his stunned look of betrayal --

"Kid has issues," said Gears with a shrug. "Wasn't bad enough, now he's delusional."

"Man, did you see him almost run into the d--"

Bumblebee grabbed Cliffjumper's energon cube and dumped it over his head before he could finish the sentence. Ignoring the sputtered protests and the startled looks from the others, he glared at Powerglide. "Well, congratulations, Ace. You just took down an Autobot without firing a shot."

Leaving the stunned jet to collect his excuses, he ran after Fireflight.

- - - - -

STAY TUNED FOR PART THREE, IN WHICH MUCH CUDDLING OF FIREFLIGHT WILL ENSUE! Torturing him seems to be my new hobby. How distressing...

Also, THERE WILL BE MORE CHAPTERS. I started this with a 28 meme, but I haven't even finished all the 28 prompts yet, and I've got another set I may want to work on once those are done. This fic could go on indefinitely at this point, whenever I think of a chapter. So don't panic. THIS IS NOT THE END!

**Robin Moto**: You're right, I don't do as much of Skydive. But he and Silverbolt are kind of the quiet ones. I'll try to sneak some more of him in.

**Artsy**: That's messed up. An attack is an attack, and the mindset is about the same I think. I tried to make Fireflight's reaction as realistic as possible.

**Jeysie**: Again, that's messed up. My little sister is autistic and had to deal with bullying and mean teachers all through school. I did the best I could to stick up for her, but we were in different grades and I couldn't be there all the time. Cruel people abound, and they suck.

**Anhai**: Air Raid has calmed down a little bit, mostly in that he's learned sometimes to restrain himself from doing the very first random thing that pops into his head. Those who think he's difficult now should've seen him then... Silverbolt's made a lot of progress with him. (Don't worry, Fireflight will have much cuddles to make up for whatever I put him through!)

**Dragowolf**: It's easy to feel guilty about it, I feel like that sometimes when I talk to friends who had much harder lives than me. But there's no reason to be ashamed of it. I wish people _didn't_ have to go through such things at all.

On that note, the Aerials owe **akisawana** some replies...

**SKYDIVE**: It disturbs me, for one thing. Four out of five of us have suffered some cruelty from a teacher or a mentor. Two of us (maybe three, I've never honestly been sure about Flight) are permanently scarred. Those are not good statistics. And we're supposed to be advanced lifeforms; I can only imagine what that may say about your species.

Before I shared memories with the others for the first time, I had no idea growing up could be so painful. It was humbling and saddening. The idea of even being smacked on the wing for misbehaving, as Air Raid so often was, was foreign to me. I could hardly comprehend some of the things that had been done to Slingshot and Fireflight. I can honestly say I've never looked at the world quite the same way again. I lost my innocence... Before, it was something that I knew happened, but it didn't happen to me or anyone I knew. So I didn't pay it much mind. Suddenly I knew it personally, had experienced it, and it changed a lot.

Do I ever feel guilty? Maybe sometimes, irrationally. It does seem unfair. I don't want to be the privileged one. I don't want them to resent me for it. (So far as I know, they don't.) Most of all, I don't want them to think I don't understand or won't listen just because I didn't have the same experience. I want to share everything with them, the good and the bad. They've been dealing with this stuff alone for so long already.

**SILVERBOLT**: A little from column A, a little from column B... Flight does require a lot of patience, but people who warned me about his difficulty have greatly exaggerated for the most part. Dealing with his spaceyness on its worst day is still easier than Air Raid's hyperactivity or Slingshot's attitude (yes, you know I love you guys too). He doesn't mean to cause any harm, and that's a big factor. Once he realizes he's made a mistake, he gets very upset and apologetic, which makes being angry with him pretty pointless.

It's hard not to get frustrated with him sometimes, but I don't think it's any easier for him, _being_ the "difficult" kid. And there's no curing it or fixing it; he's just Fireflight. Countless people have tried to fix him and failed. I think I've made more progress with him than anyone else he's ever flown with, and I haven't done anything special. We work with him on the attention thing and try to keep him interested and focused without hassling him. It's a challenge, and all of us work together on it, even Slingshot.

But I guess if you really got down to it... I'm just a softie. I'm soft with him especially, because he's heard often enough about his mistakes, but praise is something new to him. And there's a lot to praise, believe me. He's got heart. He's got sharp eyes. He's got an uncanny memory for details. He's brave enough to fly over and scout out an enemy position, taking note of numbers and activities while they're shooting holes in his wings. He's kind enough to hold one of us without being asked, even if we didn't know we needed it. Knowing all of this like we do makes it harder to scold him for getting tangled in a power line.

... And of course, there is a third reason: the Face. Have you ever _seen_ his lip wobble? It melts glaciers. No one can resist the Face.


	29. in which Fireflight is horny

29. In which Fireflight is horny

(Not about sex at all! OMG!)

It was an Earth custom, not Cybertronian tradition, but Jazz's idea had caught on with the Aerialbots from the start. All it took was a brief visit to a scrapyard, several hours bolting sheet metal and welding bits of junk together, and numerous buckets of paint, and they had somehow contrived to adorn their fifty-foot jet frames with costumes. Pretty good ones at that -- Wheeljack, passing them in the hall while fiddling with a gadget, had briefly mistaken them for the actual Dinobots.

Air Raid got to be Grimlock, since the theme was his idea (also, his "Me Grimlock badass!" impersonation was to die for). Like most of the others, he wore the large Dinobot kibble fastened to his wings and nosecone, and completed the ensemble with clawed bracers and a spare battle mask, the latter "borrowed" from the repair bay. They had even fashioned a visor for him out of part of a glass windshield. He got into the role with his usual enthusiasm and then some -- striding about bellowing orders, randomly guffawing, addressing every 'bot he met as Optimus Prime and challenging them to a "CONTEST OF LEADERSHIP!" He even had the Minibots in stitches.

The other Aerialbots pretty much got the roles he stuck them with, or whichever ones they could loosely agree on. Silverbolt, the largest, was saddled with the role of Sludge. (This meant little more than wearing several bulky car panels over his shoulders and nearly fifty gallons of paint, which he bore with good humor.) Slingshot, the smallest, got to dress up as Swoop, with a goofy red fake crest that kept falling off, and a gaudy new paintjob. Skydive, the most reluctant participant, had the dubious honor of being cast as Snarl, which required him to wear stubby horns, silver facepaint, and big curved tail pieces that sat on his shoulders.

Fireflight turned out the best, though. They'd been nearly out of red paint when they decided he would be Slag, since he was mostly red anyway. They simply colored his head to match, added a visor made like Air Raid's, then fashioned a Triceratops head from scratch and strapped it on his nosecone. The result was a disturbingly cuddly Slag who, if not for the dreamy smile and lack of spewing flames, could almost pass for the real deal.

"Holy Primus, he's adorable," Silverbolt declared when they finished decorating him and stood back to admire their work.

"Not bad at all," admitted Skydive. "I doubt the Dinobots would notice the difference if we swapped 'em."

Slingshot snorted. "Dive, the Dinobots wouldn't notice if you swapped their weapons for air guitars." He looked at Fireflight for a minute in silence, then muttered, "He _is_ cute though. It's kinda scary."

Air Raid agreed. Stomping up to Fireflight, he threw an arm around him and _Grrrrrrr_'d suggestively. "Me Grimlock want to love Slag long time!" A chorus of groans followed -- though they were all thinking pretty much the same thing.

As they trooped into the Lounge a short while later, Sideswipe greeted their arrival with a shout of, "Look out everyone, Fireflight's horny!" Several stares, oohs and aahs followed. The coordinated costumes attracted quite a bit of attention, even in the midst of other creatively decorated mechs.

It was surprising how many Autobots had been taken with the notion of a "Robots In Disguise Party." Though Ironhide, Huffer and a few others were seen unadorned, almost everybody else had gotten into the spirit of things. And _how_.

Most of the costumes were Earth-themed, fittingly enough since they were an imitation of a human custom. Hound wore leaves and resembled a sixteen-foot-tall shrub. Jazz was painted to look like he was wearing a zoot suit, with sequins that caught the Ark lighting almost painfully. Powerglide was painted as Starscream. Ratchet wore a mockup of a nurse's hat and carried a giant fake syringe. Bumblebee was costumed as, of course, a bee. Mirage had a Zorro-style mask, cape and sword, while Cliffjumper carried a pitchfork and had attached a tiny pointed tail to match his horns.

Sideswipe, for reasons known only to Sideswipe, was dressed as a hula dancer. His grass skirt was made of long strips of green-painted plastic, while his lei consisted of dozens of fake flower bouquets strung together. His brother, by contrast, was covered in metallic gold flake and embossed with archaic designs that made his plating resemble medieval armor, and to complete the look he had composed a pair of silvery wings and a halo out of sheets of polished metal. The angel of death incarnate, he sat calmly sipping an energon cube in all his extravagant splendor as if everything were quite normal, seemingly daring the world to make a comment.

Air Raid took the dare. "Shiny," he remarked with a grin as his team (minus Silverbolt, who had stepped off to one side to talk to Prowl) converged on the twins' table. There was room, after all, and Sideswipe at least was cool with them. Sunstreaker knew well enough to ignore them, since he had no intention of granting Air Raid's death wish.

"Better tell him he's pretty," Sideswipe said with a hop up onto the table next to his brother. "He's been waiting for compliments since we came in, but everyone's afraid he'll send them up to meet Saint Peter." He reached out to tweak Sunstreaker's halo and got his hand swatted away. "It's crooked, Sunny!"

"Your skirt is slipping."

"Is not!" Sideswipe adjusted the fake grass strips primly. Air Raid and Slingshot were both sniggering uncontrollably.

"Wouldn't it have made more sense to dress as a devil?" Skydive thought to ask.

"Nah, everyone was expecting that. Wouldn't give Prowl the satisfaction." Sideswipe fussed with his lei, the plastic flowers crackling. "Besides, it brings out the color in my optics."

Fireflight, meanwhile, had mentally fallen off the face of the earth. He was staring at angel-Sunstreaker in such rapt fascination that he didn't look away even when arctic blue optics returned his gaze. Sunstreaker looked like he was about to snap at him when Fireflight blurted, "Those wings are beautiful! How did you get the feathers to lie like that?"

Whatever had been about to come out of Sunstreaker's mouth turned into a rather dumbfounded, "Huh?"

Leaning forward, Fireflight all but climbed up on the table for a closer look, heedless of proximity. "They're so perfect! They're shaped perfectly and spaced just right and--" It suddenly occurred to him that his helmet was nearly bumping Sunstreaker's arm, and he shrank back a little. "I mean, it's really pretty. Did you make them?"

"Y... Yeah." Sunstreaker seemed uncertain, as if he wasn't sure whether to take the compliment sincerely or not. "You said perfect?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, as good as I can tell. I'm not an expert or anyth--"

"Hate to interrupt," Skydive said suddenly, "But we'd better head elsewhere."

"Wh-- Oh, _slag_!" Slingshot reached for his weapon reflexively.

Slag, indeed. And Grimlock, and Snarl, Sludge and Swoop. The five imposing mountains of metal were bearing down on them with stomping footsteps, and from the stormcloud of their expressions, they had already heard about the Aerialbots' costume theme. Despite Skydive's warning, there wasn't really any chance to slip out unnoticed, and the four jets gathered shoulder-to-shoulder instead, facing their foes. Slingshot did not yet have his gun out, but his hand was trembling.

"What this?" demanded Grimlock in his terse rumble of a voice. The Dinobots loomed over the jets, Swoop in his menacing pterosaur mode perched on Grimlock's shoulder. It was impossible to read either of their expressions particularly, due to Grimlock's mask and Swoop's fixed predator scowl. Snarl and Slag were glaring at the fliers in an ugly way. Sludge just looked confused.

"Theeey loook like Diiinoboooots," he hissed slowly.

Sludge-Silverbolt stepped quickly around to stand with his team (which only seemed to confuse the real Sludge even more). "This is harmless fun," he said to Grimlock, "and we meant no offense. If you wish to have words with us, then speak."

His calm and carefully formal tone didn't quite hide the quaver in his voice, and all the Aerialbots' respect for their leader's steel bearings went up a notch. Silverbolt was deliberately standing slightly ahead of his team, right in front of Grimlock, well within pummeling distance of the burly Dinobots. Just behind Grimlock and co. stood Prowl, equally tense and ready to grab his stunner at the first violent move. Had there been breath to hold, all the robots present would have held it.

Grimlock's mask lingered on Silverbolt for a moment, then turned to fix on Air Raid. "You!" He barked in a tone of command. "Sound like Grimlock!"

It was suicide. Air Raid, of course, did not hesitate for a second. At the top of his mechanical lungs, he bellowed, "ME. GRIMLOCK. BADASS!"

The other jets gasped, the Dinobots stiffened... and Grimlock, the real Grimlock, threw his head back and started laughing. His guffaws sent vibrations through not just the air, but the very walls and floor of the Lounge. Several 'bots looked nearly as alarmed by this as they would have been by violence.

"Give Little Grimlock some teeth!" he bellowed approvingly. "He chomp all Seekers' legs off!" Then he laughed some more. Swoop shook his head and flew off, to find a less noisy surface to perch on, while Sludge began chuckling happily along with his leader, not the least bothered by the fact that he wasn't sure what they were laughing about.

Slag, however, wasn't laughing, and only seemed angrier that his leader found this amusing. "Not funny!" he snarled. "They mock us!" He took a single step in Fireflight's direction--

Grimlock snapped, "Slag, no!"--

Silverbolt, Air Raid, Slingshot, and Skydive jerked forward--

Fireflight took a confused step back--

"HEY!"

Wrath and blood and thunder filled the air, and Slag halted almost before the first step completed. Sunstreaker had risen from his chair and was glaring at the Dinobot as if his optics could physically push him back. To his credit, it seemed to have exactly that effect. Slag didn't exactly retreat, but he was frozen in place as if his joints had gone into stasis lock. The two stared each other down as Fireflight's team pulled him away to relative safety. "What?" the belligerent Dinobot grunted.

"Leave him alone," the archangel replied. "He said I was pretty."

Where threats might have failed, confusion succeeded beautifully. Slag could not think of a response to that, except to blink. Repeatedly. Then he realized that the other Dinobots had hastily distanced themselves from him, and that everyone else seemed to be turning back to their drinks; even Prowl had sat down as if to say, 'Well _that's_ over and done with.' Whatever had just happened, Slag found that he no longer had a real desire to fight -- not over that silly costume, anyway.

He shot a glance at Fireflight (now secure behind a phalanx of defensive-looking jets), snorted, "Look nothing like Slag," and turned away as if it was of no consequence. The team heaved a collective sigh of relief.

"That settles it," Skydive spoke up after a moment. "Next year, we're going with Air Raid's OTHER suggestion and dressing as Japanese schoolgirls."

"Agreed," Silverbolt nodded. "I'll even wear the tentacles."

Fireflight looked around at Sunstreaker, who was sitting and drinking as if nothing had happened. "I don't get it," he murmured. "I said he was pretty --"

Sideswipe, now standing with the jets, turned to Fireflight and grinned. "Oh, trust me. That means a lot more than you think." He lowered his voice as he leaned forward. "He spent weeks on that costume 'cause he was obsessed with making it perfect. You just made him a very happy mech, Flight. You're all but blood brothers now," and he winked.

Fireflight didn't know what a blood brother was, exactly. But making Sunstreaker happy sounded good. Maybe next year he'd see if Sunny would make him a pair of wings like that...

- - - - -

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is meant to occur before the painting-on-the-beach chapter. It helps to explain a bit more of why Sunstreaker treats Fireflight the way he does.

I take liberties with Grimlock's character, because both canon versions, frankly, suck eggs. There is stupid-as-a-dead-frog Grimlock and Furman's angsty-badass-Gary-Stu Grimlock, and I'm not fond of either. I went with "not a genius, but more than two braincells to rub together, and also some semblance of social skills and a twisted sense of humor." He came off acting like a Viking or something, but oh well, I tried. Give me your thoughts on this 'verse's Grimlock, if you will; I want to see what others think of him.

Last note: "Me love you long time" is a line from _Full Metal Jacket_. Yes, Air Raid watches too many movies. Yes, he thought it would sound funnier in the Grimlock voice. I don't think he was intentionally comparing Grimlock to a stereotyped Vietnamese prostitute, but we're better off not knowing.

THANK YOU, REVIEWERS. Yes, Powerglide is a bastard. Yes, next chapter will have the Aerialbots finding out and CUDDLES (it was gonna be this chapter, but Halloween came up and the costume party wouldn't leave my head, so eh). Thanks for loving 'Bee, I realized the kid didn't get enough fic and thought I'd let people see him in a good light for once.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN! PLEASE REVIEW!


	30. in which Aerialbots are reunited

30. In which Aerialbots are reunited by disaster

A/N: SO SAPPY. OH, GOD. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

Silverbolt was confused by Bumblebee's sudden appearance in his office, and a little irritated. He had specifically asked his team not to interrupt while he was reviewing the incident report he planned to give to Prime. Apparently Minibots hadn't gotten the memo.

"Yes, what is it?" he asked abruptly as the short yellow 'bot burst in with a look of relief. _If it's another scuffle/scandal/prank/pantsing involving either Air Raid or Slingshot, I don't want to deal with it_...

"You need to find Fireflight. I tried to catch up to him, but he took off as soon as we were out of the Lounge--"

At the name _Fireflight_, the commander's head snapped up. "Wait... What?"

He rose, suddenly an imposing presence as anger gathered like a stormcloud round his massive shoulders. "Tell me what happened."

Bumblebee didn't waste any time. Neither did Silverbolt. As soon as the Minibot finished repeating what Powerglide had said, the Aerialbot leader contacted Air Raid. His message, typical of inter-gestalt communications, was short.

"Find Fireflight. He's upset."

Air Raid, he knew, would be off like a homing missile carrying a payload of hugs to wherever Fireflight had fled to. Skydive had remarked that you could stash Fireflight in a weapons silo half a mile below the earth on another continent and Air Raid would still locate him in five minutes flat. It was a fortunate skill, considering how often they had need of it.

Once he was dispatched, Silverbolt set off to find the other two. They had both been going off about Fireflight's aerial recklessness since the power-line collision, and had been pointedly avoiding their gestaltmate. Silverbolt wanted them to hear Bumblebee's story in person.

Twenty minutes later, three jets converged on a remote ledge high up the side of the mountain where the Ark lay buried. From a distance they spotted the glimmer of sunlight off of brightly painted metal. Closer, the flashes of red and white resolved into Air Raid with his arms wrapped around the huddled form of Fireflight. Slingshot accelerated, transformed and dropped onto the ledge next to them with a clatter that caused Fireflight's head to jerk up. Stumbling, he got to his feet and tackled the red jet, all but knocking him out of Air Raid's arms.

"Flight! Primus, dummy, don't scare us like --"

Air Raid shoved him away. "Get off! He doesn't need your crap!"

"I'm _trying_ to apologize!" Slingshot shouted back. He gripped the back of Fireflight's helm. "Flight, listen, I'm sorry. I was a jerk, this is all my fault --"

"Our fault." Skydive slunk up, hanging his head like a dog who'd turned over the trash. "We ignored him." He looked over his shoulder at Silverbolt and then quickly away. "We let this happen."

Wrapped around half of Fireflight (Air Raid refused to relinquish the other half), Slingshot was still babbling apologetically, his words now muffled in the cables of Fireflight's neck. Skydive knelt, awkwardly, tentatively, and placed a hand on one of the red jet's shoulders. "We're sorry."

Fireflight accepted all the contact his brothers could give him, trembling and seemingly unable to speak through the emotions that choked him. The sun was setting. A chilly wind wafted up over the rock shelf where the Aerialbots huddled, massive jet-forms curled up like small animals seeking warmth. Skydive reached in and managed to get an arm around Fireflight's neck and another around Slingshot. They pulled him into the huddle. A moment later the wind cut off abruptly as Silverbolt knelt and embraced them all, shielding them with his bulk.

"We're here, Fireflight." He leaned over the others to place a chaste kiss on the red jet's helm. Even with the five of them separate, there was a sense of completeness, of Superion being whole. "We're all here now."

The red jet at last managed to speak. "I thought you were all mad at me."

Everyone in the pile began talking at once.

"Hell, no!"

"A little, but --"

"What made you think that?"

He blinked. "You haven't talked to me in _days_." There was an embarrassed shuffling. "Nobody's wanted to fly with me or watch movies with me -- and then Powerglide came up to me and he was so nice--" He cringed. Air Raid squeezed him from behind.

"That cloud-seeding bastard," Slingshot said through clenched mouthplates. "Flight, I swear I'll never ignore you again, ever. I don't care if you bring the whole slagging mountain down on Prime's stupid ship. And Powerglide, man, is he ever gonna pay." From the dark tone his voice had taken, he was already planning out a suitably nasty revenge.

"It's our fault Powerglide got anywhere near him," Skydive reminded him. "But that goes for me too, Fi-- Flighty." Just hearing the affectionate nickname from his normally distant, impersonal teammate caused Fireflight's lip components to twitch in a smile. Skydive pressed their foreheads together in a brotherly gesture. "I won't ignore you again. Even when you mess up. Nobody's perfect, and you, well, you're our Fireflight. As long as that doesn't change, there's nothing wrong with you."

It was probably the nicest thing Skydive had ever said to his wayward wingmate, and Fireflight hugged him on impulse. The F-16 looked lost as he glanced up at Silverbolt.

"Well said," the commander said quietly. He rested a hand on Fireflight's shoulder. "I didn't mean to ignore you, honestly. I was busy, that's all. I had to file a mission report and then meet with the mayor to explain that the blackout was an accident. He demanded to know the 'bot responsible, but I wouldn't tell him. Prime wouldn't either. I also mentioned that that same 'bot took out a Seeker missile that was heading for their power plant -- one the rest of us hadn't spotted in time. If not for Fireflight, they would've had a much more _severe_ blackout."

"Oh, slag," Sling muttered, "I forgot about that. Wasn't that how you hit the powerline in the first place?"

Fireflight nodded. "Yeah, I was too close. The missile kind of knocked me around a bit. But I didn't mean to cause that much trouble, Bolt. I'm sorry you had to deal with the mayor --"

"I would have done the same for any of you," their leader said firmly, regaining a bit of professionalism in his tone. "In any case, my report convinced Optimus that no further disciplinary action was necessary. In fact, he said you should be commended. I meant to sit down and talk with you--" His voice trailed off.

Fireflight offered a slight, understanding smile. "It's okay." He patted the larger jet on the arm, seemingly forgetting his own need for reassurance. "I knew you'd take care of it. You always do. What about Air Raid?"

"Mm?" Silverbolt glanced at the F-15, who was almost pouting now that Fireflight had wriggled out of his grasp. The commander gave a short laugh. "Air Raid took up your patrol duty. Then he got into a fight with Slingshot, punched Blades for calling you a few choice names, and landed himself on cleaning detail. He still has two days left."

The red jet blinked again. He turned to Air Raid. "You punched Blades for me?"

He flung himself onto the F-15, knocking them both over. "I _knew_ you weren't mad at me!"

Air Raid was grinning like a fiend as he hugged him back. "No way. And _nobody_ gets to talk about Firefly like that. Wait'll I get my hands on Powerglide, HA!"

"I had a thought about that." Skydive wore his problem-solving face. "I think I know a way to humiliate him severely without drawing repercussions. And make certain that he will _never_ come near Fireflight again."

Silverbolt nodded. Trust his strategist to come up with something a bit more creative than simply beating Powerglide into scrap metal -- even if the A-10 bastard deserved it. "Let's hear it." He glanced at the other three; Air Raid and Fireflight were rolling around, laughing and trying to pull Slingshot down with them. "I think _everyone_ could use a lesson in Aerialbot solidarity right about now."

- - - - -

Hey, fans. Raider here. Our girl **akisawana** asked if I'd do her a favor and explain to her boyfriend (and anyone else who doesn't get it) why Fireflight is cute. Hang on, 'cause this could be a long rant. Ahem.

Dear Dave,

... Dude, are you _kidding_?

First of all, LOOK at him. You tell me those dreamy blue optics aren't easy to get lost in. And his head! It's like he's got a box around it. Primus, that's just awesome somehow. And his wings are so neat. And his SMILE. Oh, man. Seriously, make him smile, you'll forget you ever even asked.

Okay, so humans have no taste. Maybe you still don't see it. Trust me, though, if you were a jet you'd want to be all over him. 'Course, you'd have to fight me first.

Where was I? Right. Smile. He'll smile at anybody, I swear. Even my dumbest jokes. Even Slingshot in a bad mood. Even _Sunstreaker_. He's just that kind of guy. Makes you wonder how he could be, with all the assholes in the world, all the stuff he's seen and been through. I don't even know. But when I first talked to him, I was like man, this guy is different. There's something so... I mean, he makes everything seem...

Great. Now I'm not even sure how to put it. I ask him what he's looking at, and he tells me something I didn't even notice. Like, I could've been staring right at it and not seen it, or seen it and didn't really care because hey, it didn't seem too interesting. But then Flight points it out and the way HE sees it is, well. I can see why he smiles so much. World just looks so _cool_ to him. And if you hang out with him, you start to see that. I guess that's it.

Oh, and he'll hug you if you even LOOK like you need it, or just to say hi, and his hugs are great. Seriously. Ten times a day, _minimum_. I don't think I could live without 'em now, it's addicting. I'd rather go without my energon.

FIREFLIGHT IS BETTER THAN ENERGON.

If you still don't get it, then I feel sorry for you. Because I really think everybody needs a Fireflight. But there's only one of him, and he's mine, and Silverbolt's, and Slingshot's. (And Skydive's too, I guess.) But mostly mine. So the rest of you will just have to deal, and if you don't know what you're missing, it's no difference to us.

On the other hand, if you get it, TELL HIM because he could always use someone letting him know that he's one of the truly good things in the world.

Sincerely, Air Raid.


	31. Angst, thy name is Silverbolt

31. Angst, thy name is Silverbolt

(Forgive me. This was written spontaneously at a prompt from a friend who needed cheering up. Big surprise from me, it is drowning in angst and contains Fireflight hugs. Also references to "Whisper Lies", which is mature content so, yeah. Warnings as usual.)

- - - - -

_"I... thought it was okay. It didn't hurt so I thought... well, he takes care of me, right?"_

Those words, in _that_ voice, clung to Silverbolt's processor like bits of half-dried energon that couldn't be washed off. Over and over he heard them as he sat on the edge of his bunk, staring into his fists, trembling all over with an audible sound of rattling metal. That voice... trusting, so trusting it hurt to hear, you almost wanted to silence it for fear the many evils of the world would hear that trust and come bearing down on the mech who offered it so freely... over and over it spoke, and told of such horrible things without a trace of horror, only confusion and, yes, trust. Trust in Silverbolt. _Can you explain? I don't understand_.

Oh, he could explain. And he had to, even though he hadn't wanted, hadn't been sure that he COULD tell the truth to one who had probably survived by not understanding. He HAD to explain. That trust... he couldn't lie. Couldn't betray the kid any more than he already had.

_See, Fireflight, a long time ago, someone did something horrible to you, and you were too young to know and still don't realize, but you were violated then, and something in you was broken. The people who care for you aren't supposed to do things like that, but you got stuck with a bad person. And you'll carry the scars for the rest of your life. Well, of course you can't see them, they're not on the outside. But any idiot with half a processor can see them, if he knows what to look for.._.

Now that Silverbolt knew what to look for, he couldn't NOT see it. It was in the way Fireflight did anything he was told to without even noticing. The way he never said "No." The way he followed you whether you answered his questions or not, simply trusting, assured that you knew better than he and would look out for him, because he HAD to believe that, otherwise--

_Primus, the kid's no better than a pet. A puppet, even. A doll_...

The comparisons were impossible not to make. He didn't mean any insult to Fireflight by them; indeed, his only ire was directed at the ones responsible for it. Fireflight's caretaker -- and others, there had been others, if what Ratchet said was any indication; it must have started back in the foundry, before Fireflight was even fully aware -- but regardless, the thoughts made him physically ill, and he would have purged his tank if he'd been able to consume anything in the last twenty-four hours. As it was, he didn't have anything remotely resembling an appetite.

_How many times have I interfaced with him?_ Silverbolt went through yet again. _How many times did I see that trusting smile and take it for consent? Was it ever consensual at all? Was he just following my lead, thinking he was obeying orders, doing as he was taught by... those others who were supposed to be caring for him? Have I cared for him, or have I used him? Oh Primus, is there even forgiveness for such a thing? What have I done -- what have WE done?_

It wasn't the first time today that he'd thought these things. It wasn't even the first time in the last few minutes. But that didn't stop it hurting just as much as the first time. He had no idea how he was going to explain all of this to the others, especially Air Raid. Unless Fireflight had told them already. Maybe they were all off having a panic attack without him.

_I'll wallow in my guilt while my team falls apart. Great. Another example of fine leadership, Silverbolt. Right up there with molesting your subordinates and taking them out to get shot by Decepticons. Wouldn't Prime be proud?_

Frustrated, he threw his head back and let out a yell that bounced around the walls of the common room, until it sounded like a dozen people were yelling back at him. Oddly satisfied by the sound, Silverbolt sat listening for a moment... then he heard a knock.

Biting back the "Go away!" that tried to burst from his vocalizer, he rose reluctantly from the berth. He'd locked himself in, but he hadn't given the rest of the team any explanation, and considering the other Autobots seldom bothered them... it was probably just one of his teammates wondering why they were being denied access to their own quarters. Even if he didn't want to face them, he couldn't justify not opening the door.

Odd that whoever it was hadn't just shouted, "Let me in!" in Aerialbot fashion...

_Oh_, he thought as the door opened.

There stood Fireflight. Silverbolt felt distinctly bitten in the ass. Of all the people he couldn't deal with at this moment, and that _look_ on his face, it would've been too much on a _good_ day...

Avoiding the red jet's optics, he asked softly, "What is it, kiddo?" The sickness was rising again fast, and when Fireflight stepped forward, he couldn't help but flinch slightly.

"I..." The reaction must've been noticed. Fireflight sounded completely lost. For a long moment he just stood there, and Silverbolt stood torn between scooping him up in a fierce hug and never laying a finger on him again... Then the shoe dropped. "I'm s-sorry."

Now Silverbolt did look at him. There was no help for it. He didn't speak yet, but his expression must've conveyed his thoughts: WHAT?

"I didn't mean to upset you..." The jet was _looking_ at him, oh Pit that _face_, and now Silverbolt recognized the expression as shame. SHAME. For the love of Primus and Sigma and every pulsing Spark, what did HE have to be ashamed of? "I won't talk about it anymore, okay? I mean, not if it makes you mad..."

"Oh, Flight. _Flight_." Silverbolt was kneeling, had his arms around the smaller jet before he knew it. He was careful, only resting his hands lightly on Fireflight's shoulders. "You didn't -- you're not -- Sigma, you're not the one who did anything wrong. You don't have a damn thing to be ashamed of." Doubt and confusion stared back at him, and he tried to convey all the sincerity he could. "I'm not mad at you, Flight. I'm upset because what happened was wrong, not because it was your fault. I--"

Fireflight had apparently reached the point of _Shut up and hug me, dummy_. He was suddenly pressed against Silverbolt's chest, holding onto him so tight it felt as though he might be loosening a couple of armor panels with his grip. Silverbolt froze completely for a second or so as he tried to bat his conflicting thoughts into submission. Almost gingerly he laid a hand on Fireflight's back and gave it an awkward pat; the red jet's response was to grip tighter.

_Go ahead, grope him. Always seemed to make him feel better before. It's what he expects from you, anyway_. Silverbolt honestly wasn't sure whether the inner voice was being sarcastic or sincere. It wasn't helping either way.

Fireflight didn't let him decide, because he started nuzzling Silverbolt's shoulder and pressing against him even harder, demanding the comfort in his own, non-verbal way. Silverbolt remained indecisive for a long moment before he dipped his head and kissed the top of Fireflight's helm. Then he stood, lifting the other jet with him, and backed toward his bunk.

There he sat -- just sat -- and let Fireflight cuddle all he liked. The red jet needed no prompting, but retained his hold on his leader, nuzzling him now and again, or running a hand over his paneling in a reassuring motion. Which of them he was reassuring, Silverbolt couldn't begin to say. He wondered, though, and finally he spoke, unable to keep the matter to himself any longer. "Fireflight."

"Mm?"

"I want you to ask me something."

"Kay..."

"Do I... ever remind you of... have I done anything to..." He didn't have to look to know he was getting Fireflight's patented Huh? stare. _Try complete sentences, dummy_. "When I touch you or hold you, or... 'face with you, does it feel like... back then? With Whisper?" Even saying the name felt like gargling a mouthful of bad fuel. He didn't detect a flinch from Fireflight though, just a momentary thoughtful stillness.

"You know..." the red jet said, finally. "It really doesn't. I didn't even know it was the same thing, until you asked me." He sat up a little, his voice gaining conviction as memory caught up to him. "First time I ever did was with Raider, and that didn't feel like _anything_ I'd done before. It was new to me, totally. You know that rush you get, that heat in your Core, and then all over? I'd never felt that before." He smiled; Silverbolt returned it, no point resisting, that smile begged to be shared. "I told him it was my first time, and I meant it. I thought it was."

So he _had_ known the difference. In fact, he might never have made the connection without Silverbolt. So much for the Aerialbot leader's angst.

"Yes, it was. That's how it's supposed to be." Silverbolt hugged him now, fully hugged him, shutting up the last little nagging voice that worried about being too close to his teammate. "I'm glad to hear that, it -- well, it takes a lot off of my mind. See, I was so upset because... I thought I might be using you." It sounded rather stupid, to say it out loud, but better that Fireflight should hear. Worst he could do was be confused.

Indeed, the response was another Huh? expression. "Using me? What about Raider, and Sling, and Dive?"

"Well, that's diff--" He had the sense to stop himself then, and think about that one. Fireflight took that as "matter dropped" and buried his face back in Silverbolt's neck.

"It's not different. If you're using them, I wanna be used too. It feels good." Thus spake the red jet, leaving Silverbolt's mouth open for a minute.

_I am never going to understand this kid_.

At least, though, Fireflight had made it clear what HE wanted. And if he could communicate his own needs so clearly, Silverbolt didn't need to be assuming them for him. Okay, so Fireflight was still the most suggestible mech this side of a stage-three beta and he'd no doubt need his brothers' protection if he was to avoid coming to harm again... but not from Silverbolt. Nothing there but what Silverbolt offered him. Nothing that would hurt him, nothing he didn't want.

Fireflight had proved to be remarkably perceptive about a number of things. Maybe, too, his trust wasn't so blind after all.

It was all his commander could hope.

- - - - -

**akisawana**: YOU'RE WELCOME! Fireflight is adorable, and he warms to your praise. Have you seen him sunbathe? Yeah. He's basking. (I think your bf gets it, he just can't admit it now that we're both on his case about it.)

**Anhai**: Oh, yeah. Superion threatening him was only the start. He's gonna wish the big lug had squished him. Fireflight is willing to let it go, but Sling and Dive are not so forgiving. And they're the crafty ones...

**Kyra Neko-Rei**: Glad to've brought satisfaction. I can't write hurt without comfort, and I don't care for reading it either. What's the point of putting characters through hell if you're not going to rescue them at some point? The meal is what makes the fasting worthwhile.

Thanks to all my reviewers! I was surprised there weren't very many last chap... oh, well. I'm an attention whore and I should be more grateful. Besides, the Aerialbots deserve the real praise. I just write what they're doing. *glances over shoulder* Well... I don't write _everything_ that they're doing, but you get the idea.


	32. Field testing new equipment

32. Field-testing new equipment

(A/N: There's really no point to this. It was something that occurred to me while I was running around outside, and I wrote it all down inside of half an hour. It's sloppy and not very well written, but I don't think anybody cares. Posted for my Aerialbot fans to assure them that I'm not dead, and neither are the jets.)

- - - - - -

"You know they're just kids, Prime. Right?"

"Yes, Jazz. We've been over this."

"Just checkin'. I mean, they're barely outta flight school, an' Silverbolt flat-out told us they haven't seen real combat before."

Optimus just nodded. They'd all been over this, many times before. Jazz knew that as well as he; what he was voicing weren't so much real objections as reminders. Command staff had been debating this since the Aerialbots arrived in the latest detachment from Cybertron. The Autobots were badly in need of flight-capable mechs, and Optimus had sent out a call for any who might be willing to join the fight on Earth, where Megatron had been enjoying a huge advantage with just six Seekers.

Sadly, most of the Seekers were on the Decepticon side, and few other flight-capable classes had the stats needed for combat. Optimus knew there was a chance that he wouldn't be able to find jets at all. It came as quite a surprise to hear that a team of five -- a gestalt at that -- had recently finished training and were volunteering to take a combat role on Earth.

Far from solving his problems, this news had created some grave new misgivings, both because of the youth and inexperience of the mechs concerned and because of their motley composition. Their technical stats were so diverse that they'd all been reformatted into different Earth aircraft. The largest was almost as big as Skyfire, and the smallest hadn't even originally been a jet. Then there were their records, which contained everything from various juvenile offenses to phobias and psychological concerns, including some very disturbing observations on the group's recon specialist (who had apparently flown into more than a few buildings and was politely labeled as "severely attention-deficit"). As Ironhide had been quick to point out, under ordinary conventions of war, these mechs wouldn't even have been considered for a role as important as the one they would have to fulfill here.

But then of course, this was not an ordinary war. And Optimus was faced with very slim choices.

"Are you sure your team is ready for this?" he'd asked Silverbolt, the leader of the squad, who was the oldest of the five by perhaps a decade. The jet had looked down from nearly twice Optimus's height, his expression clearly apprehensive -- a reassuring sign of some sanity, at least -- but when he nodded, there was confidence in the motion.

"We won't let you down, Prime -- sir. We've weathered a lot together. We know what we're doing, and three-fifths of us are immune to fear."

Optimus's mouth components actually twitched at the factually stated fraction. "And the other two?"

"Quite terrified, to be honest." Silverbolt's tone made it clear that he was one of these. Cheerfully he added, "But then, I'm used to terror. They're a nerve-wracking bunch. Keep me on my toes. I won't crack when the situation falls apart... Sir."

And Optimus had known, right from that beginning, that the two of them would understand each other.

Sadly that confidence seemed to have deserted him two weeks later, when faced with the decision to actually send the Aerialbots into battle for the first time. Not just the first time on Earth, or against Megatron's lot, but the first time _ever_. He knew they had run countless battle simulations, that the last few years of their training had consisted of almost nothing but drills and strategies and maneuvers, but... well, in some ways Ironhide was right. None of those things added up exactly to real combat. You could excel in thousands of simulations and be shot to pieces in your first live battle. It was the way the universe worked.

And it wasn't just about losing their only current hope for strategic air support, either. Prime liked these kids. He'd liked them from the moment he first met them. Silverbolt, brave and inspiring despite his inexperience, leading his team while still being very much a part of it. Slingshot, rude and distrusting of friendship, but fiercer than any other in defense of his friends. Skydive, quietly backing up his leader, playing the beta-wolf role while playfully making the best of his unmatched skill in the air. Air Raid, fearless and indomitable, as if Sideswipe and Grimlock had been blended and miniaturized and then infected with Jazz's zest for life. And Fireflight, innocent as any mech Prime had ever encountered, finding something beautiful wherever he went and taking the most serious of his mishaps with a shrug and a smile. They were good kids, and they were perfect for this army. The last thing Optimus wanted was to send them into harm.

Still, the decision came, and he made the call, crouching behind a rock that smoked with holes made by laser fire as the Seekers wheeled overhead like vast predatory birds, picking off Autobots wherever they could catch them in the open. Prime looked to Prowl, the only one of his command staff within eyeshot, and Prowl simply nodded. Yes, now would be a good time.

"Silverbolt, this is it. Bring them in!"

He heard a whoop from the jets, who had been on standby eagerly awaiting the call to action, and then an acknowledgment from Silverbolt. Even their easygoing and gentle leader sounded hungry for a fight.

It was only moments later that he heard the roaring of their engines, and saw the Seekers change pattern to intercept. He'd managed to keep the arrival of the Aerialbots secret from Megatron's side until now, and it had paid off. The hasty, disorganized response of the Seekers gave away their surprise. Unfortunately, Starscream was a sharp-thinking bastard, and he dodged the first wave of shots fired as he flew in to take out the leader of the group.

Two of his companions weren't so lucky. There were good marksmen among the Aerialbots, and both Dirge and Skywarp took some nasty hits. Dirge was out of the fight in the first few seconds. Thundercracker and Ramjet followed close on Starscream's thrusters, ready to knock the new threat out of the sky.

The next few minutes were a blur for those on the ground. Optimus could only see random flashes of sunlight on metal as the jets tore into each other. He half-dreaded he would see the Aerialbots cut to pieces, shards of glittering red and white metal raining down on the sand, the battle over before it could begin. After watching for perhaps ten seconds, however, the image vanished and a smile spread beneath the Autobot leader's mask.

The little devils could _fly_. He had only fleeting glimpses -- Silverbolt rolling so that Skydive could intercept Starscream; Air Raid and Slingshot playing tag with a seemingly furious Ramjet; Thundercracker futilely dogging Fireflight, who was weaving so erratically that it defied sanity, let alone a firing solution. The kids didn't have the brutality of the Seekers, but they were fast, they were unpredictable, and they were fearless. They ambushed and tag-teamed and ganged up, breaking and remerging like a flock of birds, bedeviling the hell out of Megatron's jets, who until now had been unmatched by anything in Earth's skies. One Decepticon missile actually managed to hit Thundercracker as the two Aerialbots who had been hounding him scattered. Starscream swore vengeance over an open channel... and in response, there was laughter.

The little jets were making fools out of Megatron's elite as the Seekers tried frantically to compensate for this unexpected development. And the whole time, they were laughing. _Laughing_. Like... well, like children.

They were treating it like a game.

_Children of war_, Prime thought in a random moment. _Innocence on the battlefield with missiles for toys_. And he didn't know whether to laugh with joy, or weep.

But the plan had worked, and the Autobots on the ground were free of the hail of death from above. Prime stood up and rallied those who could still fight (most of them could) for a frontal charge. Megatron's ground forces no longer had the protection of air cover, and were still reeling when the Autobots hit them.

It was a short battle. Megatron was no fool, and when the odds turned against him so suddenly, he was inclined to call off an attack and wait for a better time. Nor was the battle entirely without casualties on their side. Optimus would later discover that two Aerialbots had been shot, and Skydive, thanks to a risky midair dance with Starscream, wound up in the repair bay for two days following his first battle. But it was a definitive victory, and marked a turning point in the Cybertronian struggles on Earth.

On subsequent days, the battle would be much harder, for they would no longer have the element of surprise. The Seekers would learn fast, and soon they would be more than a match for their new adversaries, unless the Aerialbots were equally quick studies. Even as Autobots cheered, Optimus wondered how lucky they had been in this first encounter, and how long that luck would hold.

But he knew that he had made a good choice.

- - - - - -

A/N: Yep, there's a SimFur reference in there. Couldn't resist. Probably the only one I'll ever make.

In case you haven't realized, this story is not dead. I doubt it will ever die. I've been giving the Aerialbots a rest in favor of working on a monster Beast Wars fic (and possibly finishing Forged In Hell somewhere in this lifetime), but once in a while something comes up, and wants to be written. This is me not complaining.

**Anhai**: My stories make you passionate! That's good. Even if you are wanting to kill a lot of my horrible evil characters. (Fireflight is just a magnet for these. I don't know how much of it is my writer bias and how much is true to character, but eh. Everyone likes to see him get snuggled anyway.)

**Ookami Aya**: I'm glad you're so entertained! "Mining for gold" pretty much describes sifting through this site, and I'm pleased to be considered part of the shiny stuff you don't throw away. I'll update more when I get a chance, since I haven't lost any love for the Aerialbots, even with Dinobot and Rattrap eating up so much of my attention.

**GreyGranian**: Sunstreaker and Fireflight are like a big grouchy bear and a clueless little kitten. Somehow the bear chooses to ignore the kitten, even tolerate it playing with his toes, because it's not a threat... and maybe because bears need love too. I'll get them interacting when I can.

**redfox12**: Sorry, but there's very little chance I'll write Wreckers myself. I kind of dropped the Fireflight/Sandstorm ship when it got out of control (yes, I realize I've probably lost about half my fandom doing that). Besides, I'll never be able to depict them as well as ajremix does. She's the Wrecker queen; I stick to the jets.

**ThreeBlackRoses**: I might have another chapter or two dealing with the Whisper thing if people keep asking me. It'll probably be a while, though.


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